The Bittersweet Ballad of Pete Ross
by The Satyricon
Summary: Pete Ross and Clark Kent go camping, but why is Chloe Sullivan coming along? and why does that infuriate Pete? Set in Icon AU Freshman Year. Special Guest star: PETE ROSS. Revised Version! Be kind, review kindly!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **The Bittersweet Ballad of Pete Ross

**Author: **The Satyr Icon

**Rating: **PG-13

**Spoilers: **Set in Icon AU; Freshman Year

**Classification: **Smallville; Chloe/Clark; Pete Ross; hetfic

**Disclaimer: **All characters, references, and other things pertaining to 'Smallville' are property of the WB, DC Comics, Tollin-Robins, Al Gough & Miles Millar, and J. Siegal & J. Shuster; I am just writing for fun, and if I owned them, all would be good and clean in the World.

**Summary:** _Pete and Clark go camping, but why is Chloe coming along? and why does that infuriate Pete?_

**Word Count: **WIP

**Written: ****Start: **Plot: December 2004 Actually Writing: July 2006

**The Bittersweet Ballad of Pete Ross**

**_PROLOGUE_**

Abigail Ross sipped some coffee in the kitchen of Martha Kent and both enjoyed generous pieces of Martha's freshly-made apple turnovers. They talked about the going-ons in their homes and farms and, of course, about their young boys, Pete and Clark. Pete was Abigail's bundle of energy, and Clark was Martha's laid back light of her life. The boys were ten years old, and Pete brought his new basketball over on the trip, and they were playing by the barn. Both mothers laughed at the height difference (Clark towered by a head and a half over Pete) and how each were such opposites of each other (Pete was so active and Clark was so quiet). And how they had so much in common, too (Both loved the same comics and toys). It was the stuff that made the boys such good friends since they were three years old. Pete was Clark's first ever playmate after he was adopted by the Kents at that tender age, and, since then, they had been inseparable. They were _simpatico_.

"Cheater!" Pete shouted when Clark's hand altered his shot. The ball caromed away. "Quit blocking my shot!"

"I can't help it if you shot it into My hand!" Clark laughed and got the ball. "I didn't even jump!"

Pete frowned. Clark could jump, jump just _that_ much more higher or farther than anyone in their fourth grade class at Jebadiah Obadiah Small Elementary if he wanted. Clark was bigger, stronger, faster already than kids his age so he was good at all the athletic stuff. And he was a nerd, smarter than those in his class. Maybe the fifth and sixth grades too, Pete sometimes wondered, maybe high school smart.

But it just wasn't at school that Clark excelled. Pete tended to notice how Clark could jump higher, run faster, or even be be stronger at their homes than at school. Clark would be smarter too, casually breaking down some intricate math formula to Pete in the barn as looked through Clark's telescope so Pete could understand theoretical space travel. But at school, Pete would watch Clark and it would seem like Clark was holding back. If Pete wasn't his best friend, he'd hate him.

The smaller boy watched his friend dribble, fake this way then drive that way...

"Kent pulls up," Clark said, describing what he was doing like a play-by-play announcer as Pete tried to play defense. Clark jumped and so did Pete, but when Pete reached the zenith of his jump and started back down, Clark kept going up, until the hand on Pete's outstretched arm was below Clark's chin. Pete could have swore his friend floated, he was in the air so long. "Kent shoots...and scores for the Metropolis Metros!"

"Hey! I'm the Metros and you're the Gotham Goliaths!" Pete said with a semi-scowl. Then the scowl turned into a face of wonder, and Clark got nervous. The boys shared a knowing look. Just when Pete was going to mention the crazy mad hop, Clark distracted him. Pete hadn't noticed how adept Clark and his parents were becoming experts at distracting friends and teachers about Clark's abilities.

"Ok! Goliaths score!" Clark laughed and bounced the ball saying, "Your ball."

The fact that Clark seemed to float was now forgotten. Pete dribbled the ball on the flattened dirt, first to his left, but Clark took a couple of steps and cut him off. Then Pete ran to the right and almost had an opening, but Clark shifted and blocked the lane. Pete dribbled and flittered around, darting in and out, trying to get to the rim on the back board. Pete must have dribbled for a good two to three minutes for a shot, but to no avail.

"You're hogging the ball!" Clark shouted. "Shoot!"

"I can't, Jerk!" Pete WANTED to shoot, but Clark's lanky frame and arms were stopping him. "I can't fly like you!"

Clark stopped moving at the sound of those words. He did feel like law of gravity was broken, even if it was for mere seconds. And it scared him, just like everything he could do, so much better than the rest.

For Pete it was different; he finally saw his opening and shot the ball. Pete loved sports like Clark, had the desire to play but unlike Clark, not much of the skill. The ball left Pete's hands ok, but it went too high because Pete was so excited to actually be able to shoot, and the new light-orange ball went over the backboard and up onto the tool shed's roof. "I guess that's game," Clark said sadly.

"Yeah, right. You're saying that because that could have been the tying basket," Pete smiled.

"What's the score?" Clark asked and Pete shrugged and they giggled. They didn't actually keep score, they just played endless games.

"Your jumper is getting too unblockable," Pete said slowly and looked up into his friend's eyes. Clark's faced changed like always when Pete brought up Clark's physical or intellectual prowess; it was the look of guilt, of getting caught.

"Thanks," Clark said lifelessly. He thought of how his parents warned him of showing off too much. Then he thought of something else. "I hope we can go on our camping trip."

Pete nodded, distracted, again, this time from his friend's Michael Jordan-type hops, to an event they planned every year. "We will; that's why My moms is here, getting it ok'ed with your momma."

For the last 2 years, the boys went into the woods on the Kent property and camp out with in a clearing for a night or two. It was something both fathers, Jonathan Kent and Rodney Ross, and Abigail thought was both a great learning experience and growth experience for the boys. Martha was very protective of Clark or more accurately, protective of the _kids_ Clark was exposed to, and each year needed convincing to let Clark go.

Clark liked going on the camping trip, because he was away from the watchful eyes of his mom, away from the chores with his dad, and just enjoyed a day or two in nature; he photo-hunted with his mom's camera, or just played with Pete and his friend's toys. Or listened to Pete's rap CDs. Pete always had the cooler stuff.

Pete loved getting away from his mom and dad and 4 older bigger brothers, and play older brother to Clark (he was, according to birth records, older by a few months). Even though Clark was book smart and graced with athletic skill, he was a blank slate personality wise, and Pete just liked teaching Clark stuff other than what they learned at school. Like girls.

"C'mon," Clark said and they ran into the house and into the kitchen.

"Can I go? Pllllllllllllllease?" Clark said, smiling, happy. Each year it was the same, Martha thought, watching her son in front of her. She looked at Abigail, knowing that she spent the last five minutes building a "no" case. Abigail just smiled and sipped her coffee again.

"Please let Clark go, Mrs. Kent." Pete said sweetly. "I"ll keep an eye out for him like I do at school. And we won't go too deep in the woods and if Clark gets sick, we'll find a new spot to set camp."

Martha smiled. _That_ is what she needed to hear; Clark was so susceptible to getting ill so suddenly around the farms and countryside of Smallville. And in a few steps, Clark could be right again. "Okay, boys."

Both boys yelled out "sweet!" and Clark high-fived Pete. He then turned and hugged his mother, and Pete did the same to his mom, and they both ran upstairs to Clark's bedroom to plan what they were going to take with them this year. They made plans and set out the next day.

The first night out, after a day of hiking, gorging on Momma Kent Super Duper Camp Sandwiches, wondering if the animal tracks they found were of a bear or a Bigfoot, and fishing, the boys made camp and talked about Pete's favorite subject and Clark's most difficult one: Girls.

Thanks to his older brothers, Pete liked girls (since his brothers did and Pete looked up to them), so he talked about girls with Clark. Pete liked Felice Chandler and Clark liked Lana Lang. Unlike Pete, who could pass notes to Felice and hang out at lunch with her, Clark couldn't even make cohesive sentences around Lana and usually spazzed out to the point that Lana ignored his spasmodic shivering on the ground. So, even though Clark was the fourth grade version of the Olympic Ideal (Bigger, Stronger, Faster), Pete's leveling ground was girls; he talked about them, sharing his own worldly knowledge of woman (just Felice) and what he overheard from his brothers. Clark listened, learned, and watched from the best, he told his friend.

The boys stayed up past their bedtimes, of course, but they were pooped out at midnight (well, Pete was; Clark seemed tireless and faked sleepiness). Pete rolled over in his sleeping bag. "Dude! I have a great idea."

"No," Clark said. "I can't eat any more S'mores."

"Not that, goon," Pete smiled, though that was a good idea."You know we're best friends forever, right?"

"Duh." Clark closed his eyes, but added, "Nothing will come between us!"

"We can make it specialler," Pete sat up.

"More special," Clark corrected and was awarded a smack with Pete's pillow.

"More special, then." Pete wasn't one for semantics. "We can be 'Blood Brothers,' Clark."

That got Clark's attention; he didn't have any siblings, and even though he loved his mom and dad, seemed out of place sometimes. But around Pete, he felt normal. "Ok!"

Pete took out his Swiss Army Knife and solemnly said, "I'm Pete Ross, Clark Kent's blood brother." he winced as he ran the blade over the side of his thumb, and smiled at the sight of the rich crimson of the blood. "Your turn."

Clark took the red handle of the knife and placed it against his own thumb. "I'm Clark Kent, Pete Ross' Blood Brother." He did the same as Pete, running the thin blade's edge on his thumb, but slower. Nothing happened. He looked at Pete.

"Don't be ...a wuss, Clark," Pete said slowly. He saw the speed that blade traveled and Clark could have drawn blood. He watched Clark try two more times. He knew that Clark was afraid of needles. And green peas. And some patches of land where the meteors just so happened to hit Lowell County in 1989 when they were three years old. "Look...just cut yourself," Pete said, shaking his head at his friend.

Clark was trying though. But no matter how hard he pressed, and he was pressing hard, the blade wouldn't cut. "It's dull," he said lamely and Pete looked at his knife. "It got dull real fast."

"That's weird." Pete said; the throbbing in his thumb reminded him of those bygone minutes of when the blade was sharp. He looked at Clark with that same wondering look when they were playing basketball. Or like in first grade when Clark shoved a kid that was picking on his friend through a door; not pushed him and the door swung open, but shattering the door. Pete was used to strange occurrences around Clark. And Clark knew how to deal with those looks from Pete or anyone else.

"We can't be Blood Brothers!" Clark flopped back onto his sleeping bag and buried his face into his pillow. He kicked for emphasis. He wanted to be blood brothers, but he needed to make a show of it so Pete wouldn't make a deal about the weirdness. It bothered him to do that to his only friend.

"Its ok, Clark," Pete said, and patted his friend's head.

"No, it's not!" Clark bellowed. "I wanted to be your brother!"

Pete never seen his friend so sad. His mind raced. "I have another idea."

Clark's head turned on the pillow and one green eye looked at his friend. "You do?"

"Ok," Pete started. "It might be a little gross and we can't ever tell. I'll have to say we drew blood, not what we really did."

Clark looked suspicious. "What do you mean, gross?"

"You'll have to drink something. I need your spit."

"What?" Clark scooted away but the tent wall stopped him.

Pete didn't see that, he was busy getting the Thermoses. "We'll be 'Backwash Brothers' Clark."

"Say what?" Clark wanted to be brothers...but this was weird.

"Here," Pete said, putting his green Thermos between his knees and handing Clark his own blue Thermos. "We take a drink and backwash back into the bottle. I pass mine to you, you to Me, and we drink. 'Backwash Brothers'. Just like blood brothers but not bloody."

"Or cool." Clark said making a face but opening his thermos.

"You never worried about being cool before, Clark," Pete laughed and Clark blew a raspberry at him. "You want to be brothers, right?" Pete said before taking a drink. Clark nodded. "Well, since you didn't cut yourself, we have to backwash, ok?"

"OK," Clark nodded. It did make sense; his parents always said he'd have to adjust. They both drank chocolate milk at the count of three, backwashed back into the bottles, and passes them and sealed their pact by drinking from each other's bottle.

"Brother," Pete said, and held out his hand.

"Brother," Clark said and shook it.

Nothing or no one would come between Pete and Clark. _Their_ friendship would be stuff of legend.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER ONE

_2001, freshman year, Smallville High School, freshman hallway, at locker 486A..._

Things change.

Pete Ross' ability to play basketball improved somewhat, but it was in another one of his favorite sports, football, where he had blossomed. In the fall, he had been on the Smallville High football team, the Crows, and, even though the football season was over, he still wore his red and yellow Letterman's jacket proudly. He earned it the hard way, going from former head coach Walt Arnold's assessment of a fullback with "not having a lick of natural talent" to being new head coach Ziegler Quigley's starting running back on the team, using what Quigley called "his truckload of heart" while helping senior starting quarterback Whitney Fordman get Smallville High all the way into the "Cornfield Classic", the class 4A high school football championship. Pete was no longer a scrawny pipsqueak, but a muscular young man, from working out with his older brothers and with his teammates in the school's weight room; he was short in stature, but a big man on campus.

"Hiiiii, Pete," Felice Chandler greeted while Pete glided by her locker. She was a very pretty blonde girl, one of the popular people at Smallville High because she was on the pom-pom squad (deputy head-cheerleader), and Freshman Year Drama Club President. She was fully aware of the effect that her curves had on the boys at school, primarily Pete. He smiled back; they weren't a serious couple, but they had already had their fair share of good times. He had been dating Erica Fox, another cute classmate, but after the bloody events at the recent carnival, they were broken up.

"Hey hey hey," Pete said with a sly grin, sliding towards her with a confidence that started in kindergarten but forged on the football field. He was a couple of inches shorter than Felice, especially now that she wore pumps that matched her pink angora sweater and tartan pleated skirt. He stood close to her.

Felice leaned against her locker, and gave her back a subtle arch. "What's up this weekend?"

"Nothing much," Pete smiled. "Maybe I'll do some homework, or maybe you and me will be at the Meteor Mike's for some tasty Meteorburgers and later a scary movie at the Talon Saturday night?" Felice nodded eagerly; Pete was smooth.

"I'll call you tonight," She said. Pete liked the content of her calls and his knowing grin made her blush. He spun on his Timberlands and started back down the hallway when he remembered something. He hustled back over to Felice.

"I can't make it this Saturday. I'm going on a camping trip," Pete informed her. His hand rested on her hip. "I'm really sorry."

"Oh." Felice was disappointed, but happy to feel his hand back on her hip. "Soon though, okay?"

"Gotcha." Pete leaned up and in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and whispered a few sweet nothings and Felice bit her lip. She dove in and kissed back on the lips, a hint of more to come. Pete left smiling, walking back down the hallway. He greeted several teammates and few other girls as he walked; some of them wanted to talk to him but he had his mind set on his destination. He needed to remind Clark of their annual camping trip. The short, muscular teen turned the corner in the school's hallway, smiling at the sight of his best friend putting books in his locker.

The inter-personal dynamics were suddenly different for Pete and Clark. They were still best friends, Clark was still bigger, stronger, and faster than Pete and still smarter, too. Pete was still a 'ladies' man', having dated Felice and a few other girls. But Pete was finding it harder to get the time to be the 'older brother' to 'school' Clark on the finer things of being a teen in Smallville, Kansas. And talking about girls was moot.

That was because Clark now had a girlfriend, Chloe Sullivan.

At first, Pete was really happy with the fact that his best friend actually talked to Chloe, the new girl from the big city of Metropolis, on the very first day of class in 8th grade, and not be a total spazzoid around her. It delighted Pete that Chloe was interested in Clark. Sure, Clark was still shy and didn't flirt with her like Chloe did with him (he basically didn't know how; he once complimented with "Your hair is shiny"), but Pete liked being the match-maker, helping out when she passed notes to him, and after class, answer Chloe's questions about Clark as she was getting to know his friend better, and Pete did the same for Clark about the girl. Pete had a front row seat watching Clark and Chloe go from 'like' to 'unspoken love'. Finally, in high school, the couple became official boyfriend/girlfriend. The big city girl and the small town boy. The reporter and the boy-Friday. Pete was ecstatic. At _first_.

Then weird stuff began to occur in Smallville around that time, more so than usual. Stuff like people, usually teens, acting very strange. Most were affected by green meteor rock fragments that were scattered all over Lowell County after the Great Meteor Strike twelve years before. "Meteor freaks" was the term commonly used by Chloe to label these affected people. These 'freaks' somehow had powers that they tended to use those powers for evil purposes, and they seemed to come out of the woodwork almost every week. Chloe and Clark, for some crazy reason, took it upon themselves to investigate the who, what, where, why, and when when the weird stuff happened, and they would track down a "freak", and defeat him before the local sheriff and the police could get involved. Pete would help them, too. If they had let him know what was going on in town.

But more and more often, it was just Clark and Chloe, Chloe and Clark. It was always "them", "us", "we", Chloe and Clark on the case, Clark and Chloe in the local newspaper, the Smallville Ledger or the high school's paper, the Torch. Clark and Chloe and Clark and Chloe, _all the damn time_. It wasn't like he hated Clark for having a girlfriend, or even Chloe for falling for his friend, but Pete hated being the third wheel with them. He even had to play third wheel when Clark was around his new friend, millionaire Lex Luthor. And since Lex's father seemingly double-crossed the Ross family on a business deal, there wasn't any way in Hell that Pete could ever be Lex's friend. Pete wasn't going to play third wheel for anyone.

"Hey, Bro." Pete said cheerfully, rolling up onto his friend's side. He patted Clark on his red windbreaker, and Clark grinned at the sight of his friend. "You know what this weekend is?"

Clark searched his friend's face an idea. No one's birthday. Nothing happening with _Chloe_. He didn't have a clue. "No."

"Wa-what?" Pete was taken a back. Elephants wished they had Clark's ability of recall. "C'mon, man...you have to know what this weekend is all about." Shock gave into annoyance as Pete looked at the blank expression on Clark's face. "Okay...three hints, goof." Clark smiled. Only Pete could call him names. Well, it was only him at one point. "First hint...sandwiches."

"Baseball?" The new pro baseball season had started and Clark and Pete usually went to catch a game between the hometown Metropolis Knights and a visiting team. He wondered if Chloe would want to catch a Smallville Meteors minor league game.

"Clark...sandwiches remind you of a baseball game?" Pete's annoyance with his taller buddy was rising.

"Another hint." Clark reached and grabbed his science book. Then he grabbed a notebook.

"Okay." Pete didn't like that Clark wasn't even trying. "Sandwiches, flannels and jeans."

"Bro." A small smile appeared on Clark's face while he looked down at his friend, "That's every day for me."

Pete mentally kicked himself in the butt. "Okay...that was a bad clue." He thought of something that his friend could easily understand. "The Shaggy Man."

The small smile grew on Clark's face. "The camping trip."

"Did someone say 'The Shaggy Man' out loud?"

Clark stepped back. A small blonde girl stepped up from behind him and smiled up at Clark, and then slipped herself between the locker and the tall boy, wedging herself between her boyfriend and their friend. Pete frowned. "No Shaggy Man," Clark informed Chloe. "Just camping." 

"The Shaggy Man is so much cooler than elective lodging," she snarked; the joy of hearing her boys talk about some supernatural phenomena that she totally believed in was dashed by something she thought was totally absurd. Then she started thinking about it. "Unless the camping trip was an expedition to get some evidence that The Shaggy Man exists." She handed Clark her huge book bag and pulled out her laptop, fired it up, punched in a password, then accessed a file. "There's been some Bigfoot sightings in Smallville. You locals call him The Shaggy Man, though...but there have been no sightings in the last four years."

Clark and Pete just stared at her; Chloe had a penchant for getting information, _any_ information and linking it with Smallville. It was her gift, as well as her burden. "Why are you looking at me like that? Both of you?"

"The camping trip is not about Bigfoot or The Shaggy Man," Clark said at the intrepid investigator. She frowned. "We go camping every year." Clark filled her in on what The Shaggy Man meant to him and Pete, about the tracks they found on one of their camping trips.

"That's so cute!" She giggled at her boys' sense of wonder; they'd totally could hang with _her_ back when they were ten years old. "So...this camping thing is just for fun, not some fact-finding expedition?"

"We hike a couple of miles or so early in the morning," Pete started, making sure he'd say all the stuff that would make Chloe lose any interest in the trip. "We carrying all of our gear. Then we hunt and fish. And we have to deal with the wild animals and bugs."

"Bugs?" Chloe's mind flashed to former classmate Greg Arkin, a "meteor freak" that seemed to have bug-like powers. She remembered that she, Clark and Pete broke into Greg's house, and found Greg's mom decaying in a web-covered cocoon. 

"Big bugs," Pete emphasized with spreading his hand out wide, "and blood-sucking mosquitoes at night." Clark tried not to laugh when she scrunched her nose."And there's no closets or dressers, we have to wear dirty clothes...Clark could work up some mighty bad stank"

"Hey!" Clark carefully socked his friend in the arm. Pete rubbed the spot.

"Bleh." She made a face and stuck out her tongue like she was going to be sick. "Sounds like too much work." Pete nodded and so did Clark. "You know what?" Her pretty face framed by flippy blonde hair went from Pete to her boyfriend. "I've never been on a camping trip. My dad wanted to go on one after my mom left but could you imagine me out on the woods? No electricity, no Chloe."

Pete was about to say "good", but Clark piped up.

"It's really not all bad," Clark laughed. "When we do fish, if we catch anything, we put back into the water," Clark let his girlfriend know. "My mom makes the food for the trip. We don't hunt with rifles, we hunt with cameras. That's how I got that picture of that raccoon you like so much." Pete looked wide-eyed at his friend make the camping trip sound more appealing. The running back saw the gleam in the editor of the school paper's eye return. Clark added the coup d'etat to Pete's plans to leave Chloe out. "We make s'mores at night and eat them, and if I remember my telescope, we look at the stars. And we do bring extra clothes to change into in the tents even though it's just one or two nights. We have fun"

Chloe used to daydream about Clark wearing more than his usual flannels and jeans, but now she thought about him being all outdoorsy. She liked the rugged image. "When _you_ put it that way, that does sound fun. When is this 'wildman retreat' happening?"

"This weekend," Pete said, and Clark nodded.

"Okay, I'm piqued by this whole 'back to nature' boys' thing that you two do," Chloe said, turning off her laptop, putting it in the bag that she still allowed Clark to hold and smiled to her friends. "If my dad says okay, I'm in."

"You can't go." The voice was Pete, and he said it with a slight edge. The passing bell chimed and students started to head to their classes.

Chloe turned to him, and stared at him in the eyes, looking down a bit; they were almost the same height, maybe she was taller if she wore her Doc Martens. And she was almost always in her black Docs. "And why _not_? Hmm?"

"Because it would be weird," Pete said lamely and looked at his taller friend for some support, but Clark kept quiet; he knew better than to tell Chloe that she couldn't go somewhere, to hold her back from where she was heading.

"Pete, we live in Smallville," She announced, her arms gesturing wildly, "home of weird, land of the strange...where Chloe Sullivan _goes camping_!"

Clark smiled; Chloe had a rather unique fashion sense, and wondered what she'd look like in a flannel and jeans. His smile grew wider. "That I'd like to see."

She got on her tippy-steel-toes and kissed Clark on the cheek. "Come on, you two. Let's get to our classes. Tardies get detentions," She reminded them and triumphantly flounced away.

"Bro," Pete leaned in, mad. "It was our chill time. Ours. Thanks for ruining it." He shoved past Clark and stomped off. He didn't didn't look back at Clark at all.

Clark stood dumbfounded, alone in the hallway wondering what had happened. Then he shook his head and zipped at super speed to his Geography class upstairs, slowed down to human speed and managed to get into his chair before the tardy bell.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER TWO

"...And in summation," Chloe finished up, clicking off her laser pointer, setting down a third poster-board that had a colorful pie-chart pasted onto it with some factoids (the others had a bar graph and a line graph, respectively) and turning away from the easel she set up in the den to look at her father, Gabe, "going camping with Pete Ross (she made sure to say the non-boyfriend's name first) and Clark Kent would not only will broaden my life experiences, not only take me out of the usual research facilities such as my bedroom, the Torch office, and the library but also get me into the great outdoors, so I can possibly appreciate what this town to offer than weirdness, other than strangeness. Dad, I need a break from the weird and the strange. You know that my doctors say that it would be good for me to relax; they say there's no stress out in the woods."

She stepped over to the side, rubbed her sweaty hands on her pants and bit the side of her lip, worried about the 'getting experience' line and the fact that no parents were going on the trip, to her knowledge. She pointed out in the presentation that Pete and Clark had been going without parents since there were eight years old, and maybe that was why the boys had such good strength of character.

Gabe sat back in his Laz-E-Boy recliner slightly dazed; he was full-frontal assaulted by Chloe as soon as he got home from work (he was the LuthorCorp's Smallville Fertilizer Plant no. 3 Manager). He was tired and worn out because of a sewage processor that had ruptured, and it wasn't a pretty sight, or smell. But before he could even think 'home, sweet-smelling home', Chloe had led him to the den and, for 90 minutes, she had her father captive with her presentation.

The spunky little blonde read off of index cards about what she knew of Clark's and Pete's camping trip, used the hastily prepared poster boards to list her set of pro's and con's of taking the trip, show possible sites for the trip (she had quickly drawn crooked circles that inside them she had wrote "Campin' Here!" on a crude sketch of Kent farmland, complete with poorly-drawn trees and cows), and all of it was for an one, maybe two day camping trip. Gabe scratched his forehead, and knew that if his daughter had more lead time, she would have used the projector to show slides in some way. Gabe understood that it was this type of enthusiasm and thoroughness she had reserved for some story angle or some weird Smallville action, and he would normally say to her, "Follow that story! Chase down that lead! Get Clark and Pete! Don't get another concussion!" But this time, there was no story; it was just his little girl out with two boys.

He sighed. Chloe stepped lightly and sat on the carpet by her father's chair. And she smiled up at him. She desperately wanted to go with her friends. Father looked at daughter, and knew the camping trip an excuse to allow teen hormones go wild, but just a girl wanting to share in the fun with her friends. He would have preferred that the event was a simple sleep-over at Lana Lang's house, her only real close girl-friend, but even he some qualms about her; to him, Lana seemed to always have a facade up, a false cheerfulness, a fake happiness. He remembered a time when Lana had stayed overnight at their house. The girls were watching an old Tom Cruise DVD, 'Top Gun'. Gabe laughed about wanting a stiff drink after watching the planes dog-fight. Lana hopped up and mixed a drink for him that would make an old bartender in Metropolis bar proud; no one gets that good at something like that without practice or reason.

So Gabe was pleased that her best friends were Pete and Clark. So different than Metropolis, when her friends were Violet, Harmony, Marianne and her older cousin, Lois; of them, now only Lois kept in touch with Chloe. So those boys were her best friends now and were really the cream of the crop, from wonderful families. When they hung around with Chloe, they made a difference in Smallville, despite their age; they solved crimes. And Clark saved her life so many times. Those two were dating now, and Gabe had a feeling that Clark and Chloe were kissing now.

Chloe's toothy grin grew wider, and thoughts raced in Gabe's mind: Overnight trip. No one to chaperone them. As much as he trusted Clark, and Chloe ...they were out of his sight, out their parents sight, at night, overnight. He sighed again, and looked at Chloe, ready to say no.

"Yeah...Clark will be there and so will Pete," Chloe said, almost reading his mind, and she looked down. "But it's me, daddy, remember? I'm not like...that. And neither is Clark."

"I know, Snugglebunny." Gabe knew that about his daughter and her boyfriend. A smile crept on his face. "Okay, Chloe. You can go."

With that, 91 minutes later, Chloe was in. She kissed her dad, jumped up, ran and got the house phone. "Lemme get Pete's and Clark's parents on conference call," she said, her fingers danced over the buttons, pressing the speed-dial option, selecting Clark's number. "Hi, Mr. Kent, Judge Ross, It's Chloe. My Dad would like to talk to you both." She jammed the phone into her dad's hand. She bit her thumbnail, listening to her dad talk to Jonathan Kent and Abigail Ross.

"Chloe would like to go with Pete and Clark on their weekend camping trip. Yes, I'm glad the boys brought it up to both of you...I just got the presentation of my lifetime, Jon...I know it is unusual. But I trust Clark, Jon, and I trust Chloe. Both with my life," Gabe added. He heard Jon hand off the phone to Martha. Then Pete's mother spoke up. "I am very aware that she and Clark are dating but I trust that your son can keep an eye on them, Judge. I think all three proved that they can handle themselves in an appropriate manner, Martha."

Silence.

Chloe fretted while her father talked, defended her case to go on the trip. She nervously grabbed an index card and a black Bic Round Stic pen and started to make a list of what she might need for the trip. Gabe leaned over, thinking it was info to help her case, and winced, reading the growing list; they had no camping gear what so ever. It was going to a costly excursion. Then Martha spoke one last time.

"I see. I'll let her know, Martha. And you agree, too, Judge? Okay. Goodnight Martha and to you, too, Judge," Gabe said solemnly and killed the connections. Chloe frowned. Gabe turned to her, and gave her a consoling hug. "Martha said 'Metropolis Girls' should stick together. The judge agreed. You have blessings all around."

"WHAT ?!" Chloe squee'd, and hugged her mischievous dad tighter. "You're bad!" She got even by grabbing his hand and tugging his tired body out to his red Lincoln. They went to Fordman's Hardware and More, Smallville's local general retail store, before it closed.

Chloe barreled through the doors and went up to her classmate, Whitney Fordman, the owner's son. He was stocking Metropolis Knights baseball jerseys on a rack. She tapped his shoulder; he turned and gave her a slight look of disdain; he and Clark did not get along, even if she and Lana did. "Hello Reporter Girl."

"And father," Gabe said, smiling, standing behind his daughter and she quickly stuck out her tongue at Whitney. He heard about this Fordman kid from Chloe.

"Hello Sir! How can I help you two?" Whitney stood up fast and straight, becoming all charming. Chloe laughed.

"We need to get some camping gear," Gabe said. "My daughter is going on her first camping trip."

"Price is no object," Chloe said quickly.

"It's a huge object," Gabe corrected.

"Moderate sized," Chloe tried.

"We're getting gear that's nice and affordable, Dear," Gabe smiled. "I'm not made of money, no matter many times I tell you. " Chloe frowned, more at getting chewed in front her bully than what her father was saying to her. They were led by Whitney to the department with all the camping goods, chatting about sales and having fun as they walked, playing 'Spot The Celebrity', a game they had played since Chloe was a little girl, where they looked at the innocent shoppers and matched them to movie stars.

For Whitney, the Sullivans were salesman torture. Chloe was picking out pricey gear ("Dad, I can't help if the better consumer rating means an extra twenty dollars..."), Gabe was picking the least expensive ("At least it looks safe...") and Whitney was caught in the middle of that bickering, plus he needed to explain what the stuff did ("It's not that complicated, Report-, umm, Chloe,...you click this button, unfasten that latch, unfurl it from here and ...Hello? Chloe? Hey! Where did you go?") or explain what it was ("That's an axe, Mr. Sullivan...and what you're holding is a hatchet, Chloe. No, I don't know why they look the same."). But Whitney walked the 'Fighting Sullivans' through selecting a single skinned tunnel tent (a small one, since Chloe had to carry it, but Gabe was very sure that the point of it being a single person tent got across to Chloe), a really good sleeping "mummy" bag, designed for warmth ("No way I'm going to freeze my buns," Chloe said, even if it meant getting a cheaper tent), a green Coleman lantern, a couple of nylon ropes to set up the tent and a large hiking backpack.

"You'll need a mule to haul everything," Gabe said, looking at the backpack in comparison to his little girl. They were almost the same height and the pack was definitely wider than her.

"Dad!" Chloe gasped. "Don't call Clark that." Even Whitney laughed. Chloe then said the words every father with a teenage daughter dreads to hear: "I have nothing to wear."

Gabe looked sadly at Whitney, who could only shrug, as Chloe scampered to the women's clothes department. Her green eyes did a quick assessment of the choices that Fordman's carried and she cringed at what she saw before her. 'Okay, Chloe, You're not here for quirky, make-a-statement clothing,' she thought. 'You're here for functional. You can do this,' she mused. She walked into the aisles, and she seemed lost among the blandness. 'Okay, maybe not. Just pretend Clark is picking out the duds. Duds. See? You even sound like him,' she thought with a smile. Her boots suddenly marched her around, and her hands grabbed a new pair of Levi's, a couple of t-shirts, new sox and thermals to sleep in. It was stuff, except for the sox, that she'd never pick out. She felt like she was channeling Clark's clothing tastes the whole time; that idea made her happy. She snagged a cute floppy camouflage hat, to fight the sun.

"You might need a flannel," Whitney advised when Chloe returned and piled the clothes on top of the camping gear. "It gets cold quick at night."

"Nah," She smiled sweetly. "I have a bunch of Clark's flannels. I'm all set there."

"Well, that saves me a whopping ten dollars," Gabe said, looking at the overflowing cart. He slowly maneuvered the heavy cart to a check stand and Whitney rang up the items, and just to make Lana smile, he gave the Sullivans his employee's discount.

"Thanks, Whitney," Gabe said, handing over his credit card. "I was worried this was going to cost as much as one of her hospital trips." Whitney chuckled as he handed back the credit card and the receipt. "I wish I was joking," Gabe frowned, looking at the final cost.

"Daaaaaaaaad." Chloe tilted her head and grinned. "If you think this is a lot of money, just you wait for the Prom," Chloe said in a sing-song voice as she walked out of the store with her new camo hat pulled low over her head.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER THREE

"Ross Brand Creamiest Corn", perhaps the most creamed corn _ever_ canned was a Ross Creamed Corn, Amalgamated creation; the corn was grown and harvested on the south side of town from acres upon acres of cornstalks, and the stylish red and yellow cans were once a staple on every table in Smallville. The cans sold well regionally, as well, in the local markets and general stores of Kaitisnertown, Huntington, Tabbiton and even bitter town rival, Grandville. The high regard of the Ross corn and corn-related products was such that it was rumored that it was a Ross corn on the cob in the artwork that graced the huge billboard that welcomed visitors to Smallville for years.

Until 1989.

Rodney Ross, CEO of Ross Creamed Corn, Amalgamated, and his brothers-slash-board of directors had big ideas for their delicacy. They wanted to go national. They knew that had a superior product. But they knew that they needed the money to accomplish that goal of having their cans of corn on every pantry in the country, more money than Smallville Savings and Loan could lend them.

Enter Lionel Luthor.

A friend got in touch with a contact that got in touch with an advisor, and Luthor, a multi-millionaire from Metropolis, heard of the Ross' plight; he was quite intrigued. He cared not for their product, nor their equipment or machinery, but he cared very much for their land. He, too, wanted to expand, expand his LuthorCorp empire. He had first started his empire, ironically, in Grandville, and then started buying up land in Metropolis. The lion-maned Luthor built his wealth on commercial endeavors and spent most of the 1980's greedily buying up technological enterprises. The 1990's, he felt, were for buying up land of amber waves of grain, or in this case, the emerald and gold of cornstalks.

The Ross contingent were ecstatic to be approached by Luthor (and his lawyers and advisors and consultants) about wanting to help take "The Creamiest Corn" national. They would be partners, of course: Luthor would provide the capital to acquire more land, more equipment, more of everything needed to go national. All the Ross family needed to make the deal possible was to sell Luthor their land rights and the canning plant.

Rodney and his family could not have be asked to make a harder decision. Land was a precious commodity, especially to the Ross family; they literally bled for their land in the rough climate before segregation. But now, they had a chance to be a national company, accomplish their next goal. The chance would never come around again, just like the chance to acquire the land long ago.

Curiously, Luthor wanted to make separate deals: the land was on one contact, and the canning plant was on another. Negotiations stalled because Rodney wanted to keep the rights to the equipment, both farm and for canning, which Luthor wanted initially. Lionel's cronies drew up a new contract; Luthor would not seek partnership in the name of the product, just the land and plant; all equipment and even the trademark would remain in Ross' hands, for 1.45 million dollars. For that amount and some other minor concessions by the Ross Family, it was a done deal, and on a fateful October day when only one contact was signed, the heavens came crashing down around Rodney and Lionel, their family and lawyers. Meteors slammed into Smallville, destroying nearly the entire town and striking many farms; several intergalactic chunks plowed the Ross cornfield, decimating the land and produce, and nearly killed young Lex Luthor, Lionel's son, who was on hand for the signing.

Smallville became a national disaster area that October day and everyone that had survived the meteor strike pulled together to rebuild the town, to help their neighbor. But Lionel was an out-of-town visitor, and four days later, Rodney and his brothers got a notice to remove their remaining equipment from Luthor property. The calamity that struck the town became an even more a personal and business tragedy: the only signed contract was for the land, for the sum of $875,000. The other unsigned contracts were lost in the debris, and in the chaotic few days of the aftermath, forgotten. The Ross family were out of their land, most of their equipment was destroyed, and the plant? A medium sized meteor wiped out the main floor, and there was no corn to can anyways. There was no recourse; the Ross family had no land, no corn, no plant, just money. It was a bad time to be a Ross.

Pete Ross remembered that he cried, standing at the new chain-link fence that was erected around what the Ross farmland, watching the LuthorCorp construction crews cut down the last of the cornstalks, level and pave the ground. He was only four years old, but he remembered what he saw, what made him cry, and that memory burned into his psyche. When he got home from school the day Chloe wiggled into the camping trip, Pete went to that same spot, and looked out towards the field. The LuthorCorp Fertilizer Plant Number 3 was built on his family farmland, so to speak, with several miles acting as a buffer between the plant and Pete's home. He thought, just like the land was stolen, that Lex, now a Smallville resident, was stealing Clark's friendship away from a Ross.

Just looking at once was acre after acre of cornstalks but now...flat and in the distance, a crap factory, made Pete mad enough to spit. And he did spit, spit towards the plant, like he did almost everyday thinking about the Luthors and the plant. Then he thought of the camping trip. Chloe was taking his friendship with Clark away too, and he spit again.

Rodney Ross was less than an hour away from Smallville, still in Grandville on some business, and Judge Ross was at the courthouse; her docket for that day was full: arranging for Sean Kelvin to be remanded to Belle Reve Sanatorium, and listening to the opening arguments for a couple of lingering lawsuits stemming from the Grayson Circus and Carnival bloodbath and the Captain Marvel-Sivana/Smallville affair earlier in the year. Pete did not want to call them at work about something like a camping trip or Chloe's involvement, especially when he KNEW that Chloe wouldn't get the okay to go from her father, let alone get one from the Kents. He thought of the factors against her: she and Clark were dating, and well...having Chloe on the trip would be an invitation to girl trouble. He grinned. No way her dad would let that happen.

And he thought of Clark's parents; They were always strict with their son. Heck, even Clark going to public school was up for discussion every year. He remembered that Clark spent some days every summer worrying he'd get home-schooled by his mom. The Kents were no push-overs.

'No way Chloe's goin' with us,' Pete thought, and went to the kitchen to get his after-school snack, a huge bowl of cereal. He had two options: He had some homework to finish up or maybe re-start his season campaign on Madden 2001, his favorite game for Playstation; his team, the Metropolis Sharks, were killing the league with 'Pete Ross' running the ball. Of course, the need to win beat out the need to open the school books for a while.

Pete's room was larger than Clark's bedroom, and far more colorful, with posters of sports stars (Danny Cody, hulking linebacker of the Metropolis Sharks and right-fielder Jay "Wonder Nut" Williamson of the baseball team, the Metropolis Knights), some posters of his favorite music stars (Ice Cube, R. Kelly, and Moby) on the walls. The shelves were lined with some books, some plastic models (mostly tanks, his favorite type and with Clark's help, a spaceship), and some framed pictures, of himself, and of his friends;a bunch of him and Clark, and a few with Chloe, and one of all three of them. One one shelf was devoted to his football trophy, "Most Improved Player", one he hoped would be the first of many awards. He went past his audio equipment (Pete liked to dabble with personalized music mixes, and liked to to be the DJ for his friends' get-togethers) to a small, two-shelf wooden bookcase and pulled out the football video-game case, took out the new disc, and slipped it into his Playstation. He let the game load, and smiled as he chose his saved game.

Two whole football games were played, and Pete had his usual after-school bowl of Cocoa Puffs cereal by the time his mother arrived at home, arms filled with manila folders. He barely greeted her when the phone rang; he saw "Clark" on the caller ID, and figured it was the Kents calling and letting Pete know that they were nixing the whole deal. With a sly grin, he told his mom, "It's for you."

Judge Ross set down her briefcase and took the phone. His stomach full, Pete leaned against the hallway wall and listened in on the phone call. He was surprised that his mom was talking to Mr. Sullivan and the Kents; Chloe must have got through his first line of defense, her own father. 'That's normal,' Pete thought; Mr. Sullivan was wrapped around his daughter's finger. But the Kents and his mom were a different story, he figured. When he heard his mother say,"If thats how you feel Martha, I agree. Chloe may go," he felt like throwing up.

"Mom...Chloe...Clark...together...overnight," he stammered. He leaned against the wall for support.

"That was a concern, but that Chloe has a level head on her shoulders, Pete," she admonished. "I know her; She volunteered at the courthouse while you were volunteering over at the pool, during girls' sessions." Her tone was sharp at her son. "And Clark...well, we_ know _that boy." A smile crept on her face; Clark was always over, helpful, and she still had that sweet memory of the tall lanky white boy at their family reunion, totally at home.

"Mom..." Pete whined. Why couldn't he just say how he felt, that everyone was turning on him, he didn't know. She gave him a look that ended his fuss. She went into her study and closed the door. She wished she could spent a few more minutes on why she felt could go, but there were weightier matters to go over in the folders she carried, and those that were on her desk.

He dragged his feet while he sulked back to his bedroom, and was going to slam the door, but thought better of it. He flopped face first onto his bed, and tried to figure out how his camping trip plans went to hell. He thought that his mother would squash Chloe's hopes, but as a judge, she was for equal rights, so maybe he shouldn't have been all that shocked.

But what had totally floored him that the Kents, people that were so strict and protective that they could keep Clark off Little League baseball teams, Pop Warner Football teams, Junior Wilt Chamberlain basketball teams while they were growing up...could be all right with Chloe going on the trip. Pete shook his head at her luck; It took the boys two years to get to go alone. Now Chloe got to go, on her first attempt, with no adult supervision. He was mad, and he stewed in his room. He stared the posters on the wall, flicked on the television and tried to watch a few programs, but nothing could hold his attention, or take away the anger. He fluffed up his pillow, and reached for his TV remote and saw the picture of Clark, Chloe and a much happier Pete staring at him; he seethed. Finally, he grabbed his cell. He need to vent, to talk to Clark about it.

Pete went into the hall, grabbed the phone off the base. Pete went to his desk first to call, didn't like the chair felt, and went back to lying on his bed. He punched in Clark's number into phone.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four

A few minutes earlier, several miles away, Clark was in his house, sitting on a stool at the kitchen nook, a tall glass of milk in his hand, looking forlorn. He had just told his parents that Chloe want to go on the trip.

"I mean, she just butted into the conversation Pete and I were having, and, at the end of it, she invited herself," the teen said with some exasperation, if not the whole truth; he conveniently forgot to say he'd like to see her camping. He winced; this wasn't Chloe coming over to his house at 9 AM on a Saturday, or staying over until 10 PM, or just being around the house all the time. This was big.

"That does sound like her M.O., huh, dear," Jonathan Kent smiled at his wife, and sipped the coffee in his cowhide-print mug. He thought that Chloe was a good girl, if not utterly persistent to get what she wanted, even if it was in the pursuit of the 'Wall of Weird' material. Both Jon and Martha liked her smarts and common sense, and liked that their son liked her a lot, too.

"She still has to get her dad's okay to go with us," Clark said, more to himself than his parents, "and even though he's a funny guy, he's really protective of her. I doubt that she can even go..."

"I know, dear," his mom, Martha, said. She handed her son a huge blueberry muffin, and got one for herself. She didn't mind Chloe being over so much; Martha liked having another girl around, especially one that knew the city of Metropolis like Martha did.

"Pete's parents have to okay this, too," Clark finished. "It would be fun if she could go, even though it's a little unusual."

It was unusual. Martha thought of the times that Clark asked permission to go with Chloe on investigations and stake-outs and, as Chloe put it: "Can Clark assist me in some covert information gathering and assessment, with possible legal repercussions for the baddies?" Allowing Clark to go with Chloe was so much easier than what Chloe would ask for now.

"I don't think it's that great of an idea," Martha said between bites. "I mean...not because she's a girl, but there are no adults around to watch over you kids."

"What do you mean?" Clark piped up, looking at his mother. "Are you insinuating that she's a ...naughty girl? or that I am bad boy?"

Martha looked aghast her husband, then at her son. Jon was usually the one to misspeak, like he had when Chloe first came around with her driver's license. He looked away, with a small grin. "No, I'm not honey," she said in a calm tone. "But, it might not look good."

"To whom?" Clark said, his cheeks flushing. He stood, and finished his milk in several angry swallows.

"Clark," Jon said, in a flat tone. "Calm down."

"Dad," the teen said, sitting back down, "I am calm. I honestly don't expect Chloe to go on the trip but I don't like my parents thinking she's going because I want to get in her pants." Martha choked on her sip of juice, and Jon gagged on his sip. "Or her getting into mine."

"Clark!" Martha wiped the juice that she sputtered from her blouse. She and her husband thought that certainly by now Clark and Chloe were kissing; they giggled at the rule that his bedroom door remained open when they were in there together, and Martha and Jonathan both found ways to enter the barn, and the Loft in particular, when the kids were there. She found them napping together, on the couch, textbooks at their sides, radio on. It was cute, but maybe _too_ comfortable. It wasn't exactly like Dawson and Joey sleeping together platonically in his bed on The WB's television show 'Dawson's Creek', but Martha didn't want any inkling of 'Clark Kent's Loft'; Clark and Chloe were not in a platonic relationship, not anymore.

"Well," Clark dipped his head, forlorn. "That's the insinuation."

"He's got a point, Martha," Jon said and clasped her shoulder. "I think we feel that this whole thing is a bit unusual, Son. Even you said it yourself, Clark."

Clark nodded, conceding that point. "It IS unusual, Dad, but we don't want to be stars for the local rumor mill. We get enough weird looks for what we do around town anyways. She just wants camp out," He said, his strong fingers tearing at a napkin. "It's just a one day trip...maybe two days or even less if she hates it. Me and Pete will be at the usual places, do the usual stuff, only with Chloe this time." Martha looked at her son with some tenderness. "Yeah, I love her, but she still my friend. This isn't a date...it's friends... Me, Pete and Chloe being kids, not putting our lives in danger, like so many times already this year." His voice went quiet. "I think it would be nice if she could go on the trip."

Jon and Martha never heard her son so eloquent, never seen him standing up for himself or his friends so powerfully. They knew their son was superhumanly fast, was superhumanly strong, and had other fantastic powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. But he was still a young teen, their baby boy. They didn't know that Chloe meant so much to him, or on such a deep level.

Martha thought of the time she took Clark to the comics shop in town, 'Sea Level Comics and Games'. She trailed him, watched him look around the shop with his usual amazement and wonder. He peeked through the Archie comics and Marvel comics, and later after grabbing a few comic books that he liked, ran to the game counter where other kids clamored; Clark tried to fit in as much as he could, and the fad just starting was the Pokemon collectible card game, and the cards seemingly became Clark's only vice, and the last remaining remnant of his childhood. Pete played 'Magic: The Gathering', similar card game, and collected the cards, but Clark, despite his savvy, just wasn't good at Magic as he was with Pokemon.

The Pokemon advertising tag line was 'Collect Them All!', and Clark did collect them all, of course, fanatically trading and getting the cards to build the collectible card game basic set. He had all but one card, the ultra-rare Charizard, and he desperately wanted that single piece of foil-covered cardboard. Martha looked at her son, and saw that he had the same little boy desperation in his face now about Chloe going on the camping trip as he had trying to get that Charizard. "Where is that boy that just wanted Pokemon cards?" Martha said with a wistful smile. Jon laughed.

Clark smiled, blushed and gave his mother a hug; he still wanted that one card, a first edition Charizard card, to finish off his collection. But he just he wanted Chloe around much more. Then he heard the telephone ring.

Clark greeted his friend, but Pete wasn't so nice.

"Don't "Hi Bro" me, Clark. I'm mad at you, man," Pete growled into the phone. The last time Pete was really, really mad at Clark was...maybe when Clark, as P.E. captain, didn't pick him to be on his team for dodge ball back in fifth grade, and pick Lana Lang instead. Pete was selected instead by Sean Kelvin, and spent the remainder of class time trying to knock Clark out of the game; unfortunately, Clark was a brilliant player, and Pete himself was knocked out of the game by Jodi Melville's erratically-aimed shot to the head. Pete rubbed the side of his skull. "Real mad."

"Me? What? Clark stammered back. "Why?"

"C'mon, you know, man...Chloe's going OUR trip," Pete snarled. "What the hell? Why couldn't you get one day off from her?"

"Dude...chill out!" Clark snapped back. He rushed and shut the door to his bedroom; he didn't want his parents hear him and Pete squabble. "Why are you going nuts? Why, all of a sudden, do you have a beef with Chloe? Or me? I thought we were all friends?"

Pete looked incredulously at his phone, then talked to it. "I'm not friends with Chloe like you are..."

"What do you mean?" Clark said through gritted teeth; first his mom's insinuations, now his best friend was implying that Chloe and he were more than just lingering around 'First Base'. Before Chloe and Clark were going out, officially dating everyone except their parents and Pete thought they were a couple; now that they were dating, everyone including Pete and their parents thought they were doing more than holding hands and giving kisses goodnight. Maybe they were, but Clark needed to defend Chloe. "You better not mean what I think you mean..."

"I'm not dating her, man," Pete said a bit more calmer; visions of a red-eyed hot-mad Clark was not what he wanted. He just need Clark to see the injustice of it all: Chloe wedging between them. "You are dating her, she and I are not...things are different now man, don't you see?"

Clark listened, and didn't see what Pete saw; he saw, in his mind, Chloe in camping mode, in faded blue jeans, not stylish ones like she normally wore and a regular red cotton shirt, not her preferred silk screened ones she liked, dressed much more different than she'd ever dress for school. Thats what he saw, and Pete wasn't in his thoughts. "We three still hang out," Clark said automatically. We still do stuff together."

Pete took a breath. Let it out. And calmly said, "Not lately, Bro. Not lately."

Usually when school was in session, if they didn't finish their conversations during recesses or in class, Pete and Clark sat together on the bus and gabbed, and if they didn't finish whatever they were talking about, phone calls were needed. Nowadays, since 8th grade and Chloe's appearance in town, the sitting arrangement changed, the calling scheduled changed, even emails and instant messages changed. Now, right now, that change manifested itself in a jarring silence between friends. It was new and uncomfortable for Clark, not-so-new and just as uncomfortable for Pete.

"Well," Clark said, breaking the silence, "this is a good way for all of us to be together."

"This trip was our thing man," Pete shot back. "Not a me, you, and HER thing."

Quiet again.

"I just wanted to chill with you, Bro," Pete admitted. "Like we used to, just hang out and tell each other stuff...thats why I am mad...its like we're growing apart."

"Pete...we're brothers," Clark said with a sincerity that was almost always in his voice. Then he smiled. "The only way we'd grow apart is if I get any taller."

"Thanks for making fun of me, jerk," Pete said; the gentle jibe at Pete's height, or lack thereof, usually a good natured Clark staple, was not appreciated now. "Seriously. Am I still the one you tell your secrets to? Not Chloe? Or god forbid, Lex?"

There was a beat of silence. Then seconds of of it. Heartbeats of damning quiet.

"Thats what I thought, man, that's what I thought," Pete said, voice eerily calm. "We'll go, because you're right, it's a good way to be together."

"Thanks," Clark dry swallowed.

"But Clark?"

"Yes?"

"This is what it feels to be out of the loop..."

Clark heard the connection die with a harsh _CLICK_.

Pete felt satisfied. Then he waited for Clark to call back, contrite and apologetic, for hanging around Chloe so much, and for even saving Lex Luthor's life, let alone becoming that bald fool's friend. He waited. And waited. No matter how hard he stared at the phone, no chime came from it.

That was because Clark's girlfriend called ten minutes after the boys' call, and Chloe talked to Clark about camping and other things until they were both told it was time to hang up and go to bed. Pete was mentioned in the call; Clark said that he said all three going on the trip was a good way to be together, and Chloe was glad. Then she whispered some barely audible sweet nothings to her boyfriend that could make even a man made of steel weak at the knees.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Five

Pete spent the next day, Friday, at school engaged in subterfuge that Clark, almost a master at keeping things secret, could appreciate. Ironically, it was Clark and Chloe that Pete were avoiding. He didn't think that it was a cowardly act. No, not at all, he reasoned. Since they were cutting him out of the loop, maybe he'd give both of them a taste of their own medicine, he thought. Dodging them was actually easy for the most part. At the mid-term point of the school year, every student at Smallville High School had some type of mandated schedule change thanks in part to elective classes. To everyone's surprise but Pete, his own class schedule was altered to the point where he had NO classes with either Clark or Chloe, a near-impossibility with a school with a enrollment of roughly 1400; the lovey-dovey couple somehow got only two classes they didn't share. Since the change, the only other time Pete could see Clark and Chloe, other than catching them at their lockers or in the halls between classes, was at Schedule "B" lunch.

But until then, Pete weaved through the halls quickly, hurrying to his classes, making sure he wasn't seen by Clark and Chloe. He did wave "hi" to some of his friends and teammates; someone asked as he rushed by if he was going to out for the baseball team. Pete smiled and nodded; he was a "jock" now, and even though he was short for football, his squat size yet muscled physique was excellent for baseball. The stealthy act was fun, and while he sat through his three morning classes (Algebra 1A, Civics - Advanced Placement, and History), he waited anxiously for the bell to ring, ending the class period, so he could sneak around the halls. Pete paid attention in class, however, despite the pencil tapping of nervousness for the class to end. He kept his grades up, even after the football season. There was an unmentioned factor in being friends with Clark and Chloe: the pressure succeed academically.

Pete was a solid B to B Plus grade student, and he was happy with that fact. He did get higher marks on the report sheet at times (Smallville High sent out print outs to the parents or guardians of the students, not sending home with the student the tri-folded cards like the middle school), but his grades never dipped below the 80th percentile. He wasn't on the Honor Roll like Clark (a fixture at the top of the list since first grade), or like Chloe (no test or report grade less than 94 percent since her move from Metropolis; she was silently annoyed that Clark would best her scores all the time), or even like Lana Lang (who almost with _disdain_ aced most of her assignments and tests). Grades were just another thing that separated Pete from Chloe and Clark, even though they all shared study sessions at the Talon, usually with Lana.

The bell for lunch chimed and Pete grinned; it was time to initiate part two of the stealth mission: Hide at Lunch. Instead of back-tracking to his locker, dumping backpack in it, and going to the cafeteria, and possibly being seen by his Chloe and Clark, Pete had a sack lunch in his indigo backpack. Since football season was over, he didn't have to drink icky protein shakes. In the brown paper bag was a robust six-inch Subway sub sandwich BBQ Beef on Honey Oat wheat bread and a small red bag of Lays potato chips. He just needed a beverage and he slinked to a coin-operated vending machine and, just to be healthy, selected a Gatorade drink, Midnight Thunder-flavor. Pete was a label whore, whatever the product.

Cliques weren't uncommon at SHS, and that was very apparent at the social time that was Lunch. Nerds sat with nerds, jocks with jocks, band geeks at one table, the Have's and the Have-Not's had their own areas, and the lonely that ate by themselves were laughed about and kept ostracized by the rest of the crowd. There was division in the subclasses, of course, like how members of the Math-Magicians Math club (a.k.a. Math Nerds) would never sit with the science club, the Newton Bombs (a.k.a. Science Geeks). The biggest divisor was the classes themselves; seniors, juniors, etc. The seniors had off-campus privileges, so in addition of chowing down at the school, they could also go to the Talon or the next hang-out, Meteor Mike's MeteorBurger fast-food stand. The exception to this rule was Lana Lang, a freshmen, who was allowed to go to the Talon (which she co-owned with local millionaire businessman Lex Luthor) with her senior-class boyfriend, Whitney Fordman, who was also the star quarterback of the football team.

For the rest of the students, lunch could be eaten on the perimeter of the school grounds (not inside the buildings except the cafeteria, since some classes were still in session). Some ate in the cafeteria amongst motivational posters ("Give a hoot: Read a book") and club/sport banners ("Go Crows!"), some in the Quad, which was outside, a large covered area with benches between the school buildings. The rest, like Clark and Chloe, were scattered around the school, in areas that they made their own cozy place. Pete knew that his friends would be eating at a simple stone bench next to the office of the Torch, the school's newspaper, or in the back of the cafeteria. Lately, though, the three would eat their lunch on the bench; it was easier to talk about the weird happenings in Smallville there without being overheard; the three already had a reputation for being "Scoobies" for chasing down the weirdness. Pete, though, went the opposite way to eat, going across the campus to where the P.E. classes were held, the practice fields. He took his quick drink of the Gatorade while he zipped to the covered bleachers; the weather was cloudy even though the last weeks had been sunny.

"Hey you!" It was a girl's voice and it wasn't Chloe's cheerful tone, but something more flirty. "Slow down there, Pete 'The Boss' Ross," Felice Chandler said. Pete turned with a smile. The shapely blonde pointed. "Liquid lunch?"

Pete laughed. "No."

"Well, whatever you do have in that bag...I have some things that taste better," Felice said, empty handed. Pete looked at the young woman before him; as per her clique, Felice wore the mandated preppy gear: clingy gray polo shirt and a 'Smallville High Red'- colored skirt and cute ankle sox and Vans shoes. Lana (leader of the Prep-Gurl clique since fifth grade) would have nodded in approval the outfit early in the year, but now the raven haired girl began wearing whatever the Hell she wanted, confusing the clique completely. Felice kept the faith however. Her clothes, her make-up, and how she was built made Pete take a deep breath. She smiled and they went to the bleachers, all the way to the top, the well-shaded and well-hidden area.

'Yeah', Pete thought when the bell rang to start fourth period, 'Felice's idea for lunch was tastier than what I had in brown sack.' And that bothered him. He sank in the hard plastic seat in science class and admonished himself for berating Clark for doing stuff he himself just did with Felice. He needed to apologize. He copied what the teacher wrote on the board, followed that up with noting when the assignment was due in his student planner, and wrote "Say sorry to Clark" on one of the pale blue lines on the paper. He moved around the hallways like before, just because fun to sneak around; he wasn't sneaking up on or sneaking away from a meteor freak. Besides, he hadn't seen his tall friend or the snarky girlfriend. Pete decided to say sorry after school.

He got home and decided to first get the camping gear out of the huge car-shed behind the house; saying sorry was going to be tough and he wanted to go over what he was going to say to his friends. "Clark, I'm sorry for being such a Jerkwheat," Pete tried out, speaking to himself softly. "Sorry for giving you crap about you going out with Chloe. I can almost understand Lex hanging with you, since you saved his ass. But about you and Chlo...sorry." He smiled; that apology would work.

He climbed to the rafters in the shed and carried down his camping equipment, pretty much same kind Clark and Chloe was going to take on the trip: a tent, sleeping bag (a new one since the old one got ripped on a nail head when he was storing it the year before), and a lantern. He cleaned and dusted each, rolling out the bag and rolling it tighter, re-folded the tent and packed that in a carry-all bag, and checked the oil level in the old fashioned red hurricane ('or was it tornado 'cuz we're in Kansas?' he thought) lantern. He reminded himself to bring along some of his father's special lemonade that both Clark and Chloe enjoyed to drink.

Pete had nine years of camping experience, six years of it with Clark. He smiled, looking at the equipment; he had lots of memories out in the woods. Fun times mostly, and some scary moments when the boys heard other noises or smells that were not ...human. When they got back to the civilization of the Kent homestead after camping in the wilds 400 yards away, his father told him and Clark about the legend of The Shaggy Man, the name that whatever beast that left huge footprints out in the forest. Clark's dad nodded in agreement with every word, chimed in a few facts, and the men laughed about it over Koul-Brau beers, watching their sons eat up every word. Pete laughed about it now. He wanted to tell Chloe about The Shaggy Man, see her eyes widen, see her get all jazzed to hear the info, like he and Clark did. Pete realized that he was the first person Chloe had told about the "Wall of Weird", a section of the Torch office that was cluttered articles and photos pertaining to all the weirdness in Smallville, and he was the first to believe in her theory that the meteor rocks affected people, giving them super-human powers. She trusted in him before she told Clark. He wiped his brow, sweaty from the heat inside the shed. He ignored her today. He felt bad for treating his friend that way, too.

After lugging the gear into the house, Pete set the things by the far wall in his bedroom, and booted up his computer. Chloe got him hooked on checking his e-mail incessantly; he'd check for any messages, then call. 'No homework tonight', Pete thought. 'I'll call them up, say sorry for being such a jerk to Clark, say sorry to Chloe for the way I acted today, maybe get Clark over for a game or two of Madden football.' He winced; he remembered he deleted Clark's team from the memory card. His fingers danced over the keyboard, tying in his password, and he checked his e-mail account, and saw four new messages, one each from Clark (subject line: Re: Hey Bro) and Chloe (subject header: T.G.I.F.), one from Felice (subject heading: want dessert?), and one from classmate Jodi Melville, forwarding him a joke.

Pete clicked Clark's email first and read the contents:

_Bro, Chlo and I left early 3rd period to go to court about the carnival AND Sivana. I told you, right? Anyways, it took all day. I am tired but getting stoked about camping tomorrow. See you in the morning._

_Clark Kent _

"No, you didn't tell me," Pete whispered, exiting out that screen. He clicked onto Chloe's message.

_Petey_

_Clark said he'd email you about what happened to us. Ugh, Anywayz, I can't wait to camp with you guyz. Give your momma hug from for letting Me go! see ya tomorrow!_

_Chloe_

"How about thanking _me_, Chloe?" Pete was mad again at his friends. They had left him out of the loop once more. It was one thing for him to ignore them, but it was a whole other thing for him to do that and have it not matter since they were not even at school. No wonder he didn't see them. 'They are off in their own world,' he thought. He wasted his time, and he wondered...was he a waste of time? He sat on the edge of his bed until he heard his mother walk into the house. Judge Ross went to her office, sighing, glad that another long day was over.

"Hey, Mom," Pete smiled, wanly, peeking his head into her office. "The grapevine said Clark and Chloe were in court today...about what happened at the carnival."

"Yes," she replied without looking up. "They were in my courtroom."

"They were with you?" He was shocked because she didn't tell him either. She signed some papers and simply nodded. "I was there, too. Why wasn't I called to the stand?"

"The lawyers must have felt that they had all the the information they needed from Chloe, Clark, Lex Luthor, Lana Lang, Whitney, and Jodi."

"Jodi?" Pete wondered what she had to say to the prosecution, or the defense for that matter. But he was at the carnival, too; wasn't he knocked out by that crazy chimpanzee?

"Yes, Jodi was there," his mother said. "You know that Clark and Chloe are always in court nowadays giving testimony for all the odd things that happen in town. They are becoming pros." She smiled, finally looking at her son. "They are so brave."

"Yeah, they are." Pete's voice was tired and resigned. "Tomorrow we're going camping."

Judge Ross smiled and went back to her papers. "They were talking about it with me. They can't wait."

Pete just turned and went back into his bedroom and sat at his desk. He e-mailed both Chloe and Clark the same message:

_Glad that court went well. Thanks for letting me know about it...now. Camping starts at 8 am. Don't start without me. Really. Don't. Thanks._

_Pete_

He half-expected a call or a return e-mail, but Clark and Chloe were at Lex Luthor's stately mansion; the bald millionaire hosted a small dinner for them, like he always did after they were in court. Lex enjoyed Peter's absence from the meals, and Chloe and Clark were too wrapped up in the upstairs playroom to even think of their friend.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Six**

Long before there was a leafy little hamlet called Smallville, before Lowell County existed, before Fort Small (named for Ezra Small's pioneering spirit in the territory) was constructed, before Kansas was a state, even before all _that_, Pete and Clark camped on the land that was home to the Kawatchee Tribe.

Sharing with the Arapaho, Comanche, and the Kiowa what would become the state of Kansas, the Kawatchee were but one of the few tribes that didn't fight the "whites" when the settlers moved into the territory. Not going onto a reservation later on like many tribes were sadly forced to do, the tribe stayed on their homelands, peacefully co-existing with the settlers, serving as guides to the new area. The main reason that the Kawatchee were so helpful to the settlers was that the members of the tribe held a secret that they were sworn to keep safe.

The secret was based on a special aspect in their belief system and their technology. Spirit beings (both animal and human) and dream quests were a part of their lives, as was astronomy. Chiefs were strong, but the Shaman of the tribe, the religious leader, was more powerful, going all the way back to the Kawatchee first recorded their history by painting on hides with dyes. The Shaman taught his people knowledge of astronomy, almost modern in the study of the stars and planets, all done somehow without the telescopes used today. The biggest difference, and part of their secret, was this knowledge was "given" to the Kawatchee by Jo'rel, thought to mean "_The First From The Stars_". Jo'rel descended from the blue sky in a black "arrow" and told the Shaman the land would be sacred, would be home for His son, the all-powerful Naman, when the time came for Him to send here. His son, He foretold, would be live amongst the people, finding a home with a childless man and woman. Then Naman would protect all the land that every eye could see, protect the sky and the water, man and beast. He would meet Wakl'óe, a beautiful and smart woman, from this land and she would wear the marriage bracelet, be His life-mate, adding to His strength. And Sageeth, His friend, would be His ally from this land at first. Then he would become His nemesis, thinking he was protecting the land from possible tyranny by the all-powerful Naman. He told the Shaman that Naman would come to the land with fire from the skies.

The prophecy was not painted on hides but on walls of a special cave. Jo'rel tore open the earth and carved out the cave from a rock bed. The underground den would serve Naman as a focal point of His existence, where he would learn of his true nature, and set him on his life's path. Using his vast powers, Jo'rel created what the he called "_a gateway to the land of Kurp'ton_", where His spirit, imbued into icy shards, would speak to His son. Jo'rel showed the Shaman a glimpse into that land, and the shaman saw a world of ice, colder than any any human could withstand. The visitor from the stars said Naman would pass through the doorway and return immortal with more knowledge and powers to protect the lands. Jo'rel revealed an octagonal silver disk that would open the gateway. He handed the silver disk to the shaman and sealed the gateway, only to be opened by Naman. The disk and the wall were adorned with Jo'rel's odd writing, none that the Kawatchee seen; it would only be comprehended by Naman. After teaching the Kawatchee about the stars, showing them where His planet was in the night sky (one of "eyes" in the wolf-head constellation), after preparing the land for His son's arrival, Jo'rel returned to his black metal "arrow" and disappeared in the skies.

With the land considered to be sacred, the Kawatchee tribe needed to stay peaceful to stay on the land. As years went by, they let the fact that Jo'rel came to earth slip into myths to hide it from the "white" settlers, let the cave's location and the items that Jo'rel left for Naman hidden, too until the land's champion arrived. And when the Great Meteor of 1989 happened, the members of the tribe became very interested in the prophecy again.

Clark Kent was interested in something, but it wasn't a prophecy he never heard of from a tribe he barely knew anything about. What he was very interested in the form of a cute little blonde sitting across the table from him in his kitchen, showing off her new camouflage hat to him. Chloe was hyper despite the ungodly hour she woke up, showered and got dressed in her a new red cotton t-shirt, black denim jeans and a red and white checkerboard flannel she snitched from Clark in last month for the camping trip. She was playing with the brim of the floppy hat, scrunching it, twisting it, making silly faces and playing peek-a-boo with her boyfriend. She was doing for a while until she saw his parents and her father looking at her with bemused faces. She giggled, blushed a deep red, hunched up her shoulders and asked no one in particular, "I'm being a total spazz, huh?"

"Just a little spazzy, Snugglebunny," Gabe said, using her childhood nickname, the one that Clark was calling her in a more romantic way. Her father grinned, sipping at his coffee. He had watched his little girl, a little bit amazed with what he saw too; he'd seen Clark could bring out the completely serious side of his daughter, so very serious about her craft, journalism, working together on stories for the Torch, and some for the Ledger about those evil "meteor freaks". And then...a simple comment by Clark when he met them at the front door ("That's a really floppy hat") and she acts all goofy with her boyfriend. "Not totally spazzy...but no more than usual around Clark."

"Oh geeze, Dad!" She said, mortified at the giggles from everyone else at the table. She scooped up some of her scrambled eggs to fling at her father, but remembered that they were at the Kent's place, not at home, and food-fights were not be the norm in their house. Clark eyed Chloe warily, watching her fork lower to her plate. He was a survivor of several Sullivan versus Sullivan skirmishes, though he was a not-so-friendly-fire victim in the KFC Mash Potatoes War; he foolishly tried to broker peace over who should get the last piece of extra crispy chicken in he box, the drumstick...and was nailed by both of the Sullivans with heaps of the mushy white stuff. Now, Chloe caught Clark's eye and she moved her wrist quickly, faking a flick at him. Clark flinched and Chloe smiled, satisfied with getting some semblance of power back after her dad had embarrassed her more than she embarrassed herself. Her smile grew when she grabbed the large coffee tumbler in front of her, the one Martha was so kind to get her and kept in her kitchen. She drank down the last of the 20 ounces in the tumbler (just like Chloe's cherished Venti at Starbucks and the Mega Java at the Talon) and sighed dramatically.

"More coffee, Chloe?" Martha Kent asked, noticing how she pushed her tumbler away from her plate, looking forlorn at it. Clark's mom was an enabler for Chloe's caffeine needs and the peppy blonde knew it.

"YES PLEASE!" Chloe quickly handed her tumbler to Martha and shared with Clark's mom a smile, but the blonde's smile was much too toothy. She bit the sides of her tongue, her body was just a bit jittery and her eyes were a bit too wide; all the tale-tell signs of a java-wired Chloe were evident to everyone but Martha, who just adored the girl's appetite for her savory home cooked dishes and especially the coffee. Martha filled her cup and handed it back.

"I think she hit her daily three tumbler limit, Martha," Gabe said, watching Chloe gleefully take a chug of her drink. He was always amazed at the amount of caffeine that Chloe could drink.

"I misheard you, Dad," she smiled, and rebelliously sipped at her tumbler. "Coulda swore the daily limit was four Ventis, Mega Javas or tumblers total."

"A limit which you hit in two hours, young lady," Gabe said as sternly as he could muster; he never really came down on his baby.

"Dad, I need the coffee," She said in a whiny voice that the Kents never heard, and one that Clark was getting used to, and falling for her wants. "I need all the energy I can get to march - -"

"Hike," Clark corrected with a smile.

Chloe smiled back. " - - to hike - -"

"For miles," Clark finished.

"Miles?" She gasped, the corners of her lips curled in opposite directions and Clark nodded, his lips pressed together. She could already feel the ache in her legs; she did yoga and some cardio workouts but she was no athlete. She was proud that she worked the neurons in her brain more than she did the muscle fibers in her limbs. Clark knew that, and then he delivered the _coup de grace_.

"And no coffee shops on the way."

Chloe looked at her father incredulously. "See, Dad? I need to load up." After a hearty gulp, she gave her father a smarmy grin.

"If she could hike with a IV bag dripping caffeine into her system, she would," Gabe told the Kents with a smirk and Chloe playfully stuck her rosy tongue at him.

"Geeze, I don't NEED it that badly," She said, and saw the unbelieving faces of everyone at the table. She set her tumbler down close to the middle of the table and straightened herself out in her chair. "I'm not THAT bad." Everyone at the table just waited, and by everyone's silent count of six, Chloe took her tumbler and eagerly drank. She set the tumbler down and gave a wan, defeated smile. "I can't help it. Mrs. Kent, you make really good coffee."

"Well, Chloe," Clark gave her a smile that warmed her more than what was in her glass, "you broke your previous record of 5 seconds..."

"OH HUSH!" she laughed and so did everyone else. Gabe have her a side hug and she wished it was Clark, and Jon and Martha caught how their son and Gabe's daughter shared a look. Martha looked at Jon and his eyebrows peaked; was camping a good idea?

"I hope you don't mind me coming over so early," Chloe said, breaking the hug and noticing the uneasy look on the faces of the Kents. "I am all happy to go campin'. I never went before, you know."

"Six-thirty is a bit early, even for you, Chlo," Clark smiled and muffled a fake yawn to show his girlfriend that he was kidding. She smiled, knowing that he hardly ever got tired.

"Clark!" A shocked look was on his mother's face; she didn't know he was playing with her. Actually he wasn't annoyed to see her so early; it was opposite emotion when he answered the door and saw her, her body outlined in the rays of a new morning sun. Chloe was special to him. Was it because they were dressed alike for the first time, co-ordinating flannels and shirts, and her awfully snug jeans that made his heart race, or the smile on her face when she whispered good morning babe, out of her father's hearing? He could never quantify it; she had everything, was everything. If there was one thing that Clark knew, it was that, already at such a young age.

Jonathan gave a scolding look to his son, who gave a chastened sip to his orange juice. "It's no problem, Chloe...we were already up, ready to get the day started off." He took a drink from his cow-print mug.

"Speaking of starting the day off..." Gabe smiled, wiped his face one last time, and leaned back in his chair, giving his stomach room to grow, "Thank you for the hearty breakfast, Martha."

Clark's mother beamed; she prided herself on her skills in the kitchen; they came easily for the former corporate raider. Now, whipping up muffins and pies and turkey dinners was more fun than mergers and acquisitions and buyouts. "Your welcome, Gabe."

"I'd burp, but I think embarrassed Chloe enough," he answered; his daughter gave Clark a helpless look and her boyfriend grinned. Clark heard many a Gabe Burp, and a couple of Chloe Burps, when she was totally relaxed after eating. She'd look completely aghast and hide her face, but he didn't mind, and had almost convinced her that she wasn't a slob, that her burps were cute. "We don't get many home-cooked meals," Gabe continued, fighting the urge to belch, "we have all the restaurants that have take-out or delivery on speed dial."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kent. I hit my culinary high point when I make toast," Chloe said sheepishly. Martha did try and teach her some dishes, but when Clark was in the kitchen with them, the poor girl was so distracted. Or she just was a really bad cook.

"Remember when you tried to cook hot cereal?" Gabe asked, looking at his girl. Jon and Martha winced when Chloe's head dropped and hit the table hard. But the girl had suffered a few concussions already, and the impact was nothing, really. Chloe laid her head on the table, knowing where this story was going. "It was a cold morning and she wanted something warm in her tummy."

"I've done that," Clark piped up, trying to salvage some of his girlfriend's honor. "No big deal."

"I thought I could make something hot, like instant oatmeal," a little voice said. "But it was Froot Loops."

"Oh wow," Clark, Jonathan, and Martha said at the same time. "When you're young, mistakes can happen in the kitchen," Martha smiled.

"It happened just - -"

"No, Dad!" Her head popped up.

"- - last year. " Gabe shook his head. "The kitchen was a mess. Pots here and pans there. The blender was broken. How did you get that stuff on the ceiling, Snugglebunny?"

Chloe just whimpered in reply. She had blocked the memory out of her mind; worse, she hadn't suffered some time of injury to her cranium, so she couldn't blame her ineptness on that fact.

"Well, I had my share of disasters in the kitchen," Martha lied, feeling sad for Chloe, knowing now she was a bad cook no matter what, and wanting her embarrassment to end. Chloe looked up and the two girls from Metropolis shared a smile. "I am glad that you both have good appetites."

Gabe looked at Martha's son. "I thought I was a good eater...but Clark here...Wow."

Clark dropped his fork that impaled the last of the fluffy eggs that he was throughly enjoying and Chloe gasped.

"Dad!"

"Chloe...you were the one that said he was an unstoppable force and an immovable object at meal time," Gabe said, not minding that she told him that in confidence.

She cringed and looked at her deeply reddening boyfriend; only she could make fun of him. "It's a compliment, really, Clark. I like that you eat a lot." She pressed her lips together, knowing what she said was lame.

Gabe continued, and the Kents both realized where Chloe got her 'never give up' attitude. "I thought he over-doing it at Thanksgiving, but I was wrong . How many eggs did you devour, Clark?"

"Dunno," he said, although he knew the answer.

Martha felt the need now to protect her child. "He eats very, very well..."

"By my count," Chloe figured, totaling numbers and items in her head, "at least 6 eggs, 2 glasses of orange juice, a glass of milk, two ham steaks, 4 helpings of hash-browns, 8 sticks of bacon and 4 pieces of toast!" Everyone at the table looked at Chloe. "Not that I was watching him take every bite." They kept staring at her, and she slid in her chair, wanting to hide. "So much protein! I think that's awesome...It's awesome ...umm...'cuz all that food makes Clark so big and strong and so muscular..." Looks of disapproval appeared on the adults' faces, and Chloe knew she went too far. She reached for her tumbler. "Mmm, your coffee shuts me up." She took a drink, hoped for a save, and saw it, the last of their camping group at the screen door. "Hey, look everyone! Petey!"

"Hey hey hey," Pete said, without his usual mirth. He just stood behind the screen, watching them, like he had for the last fifteen minutes. He didn't just walk into the Kent house like he usually did; he watched and saw a two family units having fun together. He felt out of place.

"Pete...come in...have some breakfast," Martha smiled, getting up to fix up a plate. Clark's little buddy, she thought, always loved her cooking.

"I had some breakfast already, Mrs. Kent," he lied, trudged through the door, leaving his gear outside on the porch. He stood by the door after he closed it, and waved hi to everyone at the table. "Ready to head out?"

"We have go go slow because of her," Clark grinned, and pointed at Chloe's gear. She brought backpack/tent combo, her lantern, but she also brought her huge knapsack, and kept mum about what was in it.

"I can keep up with you two, smartie." Chloe grinned at her boyfriend. "I like to be prepared."

"For?" Jonathan looked at her quizzically.

"Anything," she answered with a tilt of her head, and she was happy that none of the adults at the table didn't think it was an odd thing to say. But she knew her stay so far in Smallville was full of unexpected thing happening, and very few of them good.

"That's a lot of gear." Pete looked at Chloe. "Been weightlifting?"

"Like I said, I'm prepared." Chloe flashed her toothy smile. "Clark said he'll help carry it."

Gabe brayed and everyone laughed except Clark and Pete; Clark was chagrined, being compared to a mule, and Pete just didn't care. "Anyways," Pete said, voice toneless, killing the laughter, "Let's get going." He went outside, not looking back. He grabbed his backpack, slipped it on, and stood on the dirt road.

"That's the most dour I ever seen Pete," Martha said, looking out the kitchen window, her heart breaking as she watched him kick some rocks."What's wrong, Clark?"

Her son stood up and went around the table and stood by her. Chloe followed. Looking at his girlfriend, then his mother, he said, "Maybe he's upset that I didn't tell him we were at court,"

"Dork." Chloe slugged his arm, and Martha nodded in approval. "I reminded you, too."

"My mind was somewhere else," Clark explained vaguely. He and Chloe shared a quick look when he rubbed his bicep; Martha knew that Chloe's punch had no effect on him, but he faked that it did hurt: his parents didn't know that Chloe knew his secret, that he was a superhumanly strong alien from another planet. He still hadn't told them, and needed to pretend. Chloe knew that it troubled him and knew where his mind was, because hers was there, too, happily.

"I did email him."

Chloe added, "I hope he got that note I left with Jodi."

"He's always been so sensitive," Martha disclosed with a sad smile.

"C'mon guys," Pete shouted from outside. "Let's go!"

"Okay!" Clark yelled out the window.

"Keep care of her," Gabe whispered to Clark. He nodded, and smiled some more when his parents told him the same thing. Clark and Chloe slipped on their backpacks, and he took her knapsack, a small ice chest with food while Jon tied the lanterns to the backpack. He pretended that he was loaded down, but all the weight wasn't a bother. It was just cumbersome. "You look set," Gabe said. "Next time you'll need a caravan of camels."

"Yeah," Clark grinned and waddled out the door.

"Clark...don't hate me, but...Um...I need a bathroom break, okay?" Chloe bit her bottom lip. Clark nodded and she scurried into the downstairs bathroom.

Gabe shook his head. "All that coffee." Jon laughed, and Clark nodded. He went out onto the porch and spotted Pete already trekking into the field

"Hey! Slow down!" He yelled out to his friend. "Chloe's in the bathroom!"

Pete shook his head. Finally, Chloe made it out onto the porch, backpack on, and a shy smile on her face. Clark wanted to hug her because she looked so cute, she wanted to kiss him for that same reason. They touched hands a few times while they walked together towards Pete, but knew they couldn't hold hands like normal; this was a public display of affection-free camping trip, especially in the sight of their parents. But that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy their company, strolling on the dirt path onto the grassy knolls, carefree and content.

Pete watched them stop and wondered what was up. "C'mon, Clark! I wanna get to the campsite before dark!"

"Okay! Okay! We just found a butterfly patch and Chloe's taking pictures of them!"

"It's so pretty!" She yelled out. They both laughed as the swarm flew around them, landing on them and flying again, circling and darting, swirling, dancing in the morning sky. One landed on Clark's nose, and she took a picture. Two of them landed on her hair, and he took a picture of that, saying to her that they reminded him of barrettes and she looked cute. She'd have to buy some now, she thought.

They were only fifty feet away from their friend, but so far away, lost in the flitting wings of yellows, reds, oranges, blues, and purples. Pete could have swore that he walked through that area and nothing happened to him. 'Just my luck,' he thought. His head dropped, knowing that the trip would be like this, Chloe and Clark having all the fun, and his mood went cold like the blustery wind rolling in hard from the West.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Seven**

The young teens had dressed alike for the most part, with all three of them in denim jeans (Chloe wore a pair of very snug black Levi's that she had hoped Clark would notice, which he did with every single one of her steps; he was broken-in, chore-stained, faded-blue Levi 501's that he liked to wear when he wasn't in school, and one Chloe liked to see him wear, too, and finally, on Pete, old periwinkle blue Tuff-Skins that he hadn't outgrown since his mother got the pants a few sizes too big when he was ten year old, and wore every single time he went camping) and cotton tee shirts (Chloe was in a red one with a cute yellow appliquéd "S" on the chest; Clark wore a blue tee that was tight, around the chest, shoulders and at his biceps, and Pete was in a yellow shirt that had a side-pocket on the chest).

But the shortest of the group had on his favorite black windbreaker (there was no way Pete would take his Letterman's jacket on a camping trip), and the other two had thick flannels on, complementing flannels no less, to Pete's annoyance; she was in red checkers, and he was in blue stripes. Only he had sneakers on, tinged green from mowing the lawn, while Clark and Chloe were wearing their boots; the perky blond in her usual black leather, size six, steel-toe Doc Martins, and Clark in his work-worn size 14 Wolverines. Chloe and Pete did have something in common: now Chloe had her floppy hat on and Pete had on a Metropolis Knights baseball team cap covering his closely clipped hair. Clark went without anything on his head.

It was good that they had dressed that way since the morning was windy. They didn't mind it too much, having suffered through rain and snow and harsh winds waiting for the school bus at the pick-up/drop-off site, which was at the end of Clark's driveway (really a gravel path). But the sky was a gorgeous azure and so sunny. Like the butterflies that played with Clark and Chloe, all the colors surrounding them as they walked along seemed crisper, more vibrant than usual. The blades of the grass were verdant spears, the clumps of dirt all sorts of shades of brown. Only thing that was dark was Pete's mood. He already told them not to kiss or hug or not call each other 'Honey', 'Lover' or anything like that. They got mad, but Pete said that he couldn't let them. The parents had made him the watchdog, so nothing could scandalous would happen on the trip. They didn't like it, and he said neither did he; he wanted to camp, not keep an eye on these two. And it had annoyed him that he wasn't enjoying the early morning like Chloe and Clark; he walked fast, or as fast as he could with all his camping gear.

"What's the rush, Petey?" Chloe said, voice ragged, beside her friend. She was taking quick strides, and it sucked; she was already feeling tired from carrying her pack. Chloe turned her torso at Clark and scrunched her nose, who tried to shrug his shoulders but it was precarious since he was carrying so much stuff. His strides were normal. "If I knew we were going to run, not hike - -" she started to snark, " - - I would have worn my gym shoes, and not my boots." She grinned, heard Clark chuckle at the remark, but her words had no effect on Pete.

"I just wanna get to the camp site, Chloe," he said back, not looking at her, his brown eyes on the far-away tree-line. "Just wanna set things up." He said. He didn't want to slow down, but he was feeling some burning sensations in his own thighs. The weight he was carrying, sneakers, the soft ground, and worse, the slight incline they were marching on, was making it hard on him. He just hoped it was hard on his friends, too. He huffed, "We lost maybe an hour, with your bathroom break and you two playing in the field."

"Oh," Chloe said, not knowing that she had slowed down the trip that much. She slowed her pace and gave a pout to Clark. "How far is it?"

A wicked grin appeared on Pete's face. "A few miles."

"There's no way I can make it at the rate we're going," Chloe fussed and looked over at Clark. It annoyed her that he didn't look like he was straining with how fast Pete was going. She pressed her lips together, squinted and nodded her head at Pete. She only did it five times before Clark realized that she wanted him to speak up.

"Bro," Clark said, using the word that he hoped would get to Pete. "She's got a point. I'm carrying a lot of stuff. I'm dying." He let out a fake grown.

Pete turned. "Then how come you're not sweating?"

"He doesn't need to sweat," Chloe said, before she realized it. Her fingers came up to her lips, but the words were already gone.

"He doesn't?" Pete actually stopped.

"Clark...was sweating...I saw it," she said, trying to cover up for Clark's alien physiology; even though he had pores in his skin, he didn't sweat. Clark's body condensed. "It's so breezy now...it's all dried up." She turned to her boyfriend, and she gave him a panicky look.

Pete looked at her suspiciously. "You're sweating, Chloe."

"I'm glistening with a fervor that's making me feel squicky, thank you very much," Chloe zinged back.

"So winded...so very, very winded - - " Clark bellowed, pretended to tire, "- - and legs... so very, very rubbery..." Just then, he let go of the small ice chest, let Chloe's knapsack slide down his arm to the ground by the ice chest, and he dropped to his knees. She winced, worried about her knapsack but understood the ruse; she knew nothing but meteor rocks could hurt her boyfriend.

"Oh no! Poor, poor Clark! You look so tired and have such dry skin," Chloe lied as badly as Clark faked. It was no wonder that one their electives was journalism, being on the high school paper's staff (in Chloe's case, the youngest editor-in-chief ever) and not drama, performing with the "Not Ready For Metropolis This Time Players." She went to him, made sure her back was to Pete so her friend couldn't see, and mouthed 'sorry' to Clark.

His eyes flashed wide, while he mouthed back, 'thanks'. She touched the skin on his forehead; it was dry, soft, and smooth. She dumped her backpack, and sat by him, hating the feel of wetness on her butt from the remnants of morning dew, but she kept quiet; she caused enough trouble.

"Break time, I guess," Pete sighed. He reached for the water bottle in a side pocket of his backpack, and Chloe and Clark did the same thing; he grabbed his bottle from the side of his pack while she grinned mischievously, reached into her knapsack and showed him her bottle. She then showed them the small medical kit that was in the sack, filled with alcohol swabs, first-aid cream,and band-aids in the kit, just in case she or Pete got hurt. She quickly added Clark, too, and showed off her dad's compass, which was just a plastic model he got as a cereal give-away. The boys laughed at it, and she frowned because she didn't notice that it was a novelty when her father handed it to her. They all drank and rested up.

"So," Chloe said after their five minute break, checking the compass's reading (the curly-cue arrow was pointed towards "Chocolate Goodness Land" and she now felt really silly), "where's the map?"

"No need for a map," Clark said, loaded back up, and started to walk. Chloe followed after him.

"We've been going to the same places for years," Pete said, walking slower. "We have the routes almost memorized."

"Almost," Chloe teased.

Pete wasn't in the mood to be teased. "We're still by the house, Chloe...if you don't trust us..."

"I trust you guys! Geeze!" Chloe looked him with her mouth open. "I just thought you guys had a map, that's all. Sheesh!"

"Hey, guys, it's such a a nice day," Clark said, not liking that Pete was picking on his girl. "Lets just have fun, let's enjoy it. "

"I'm all for that," Chloe grunted. 'But getting my head chewed off isn't fun', she thought.

"We'll have fun will be at the camp site," Pete huffed, pumping his knees higher as they all went up a hill. He sort of felt bad for jumping on Chloe like that. "Clark knows the hike is work."

"Okay," Chloe said, making a face at Clark. She thought of the stuff she could have been doing this Satyrday morning: maybe sleeping-in for starters. Then she'd grab her phone, hit the top number on her speed-dial, Clark's number, get invited over for brunch by him and after that, off they would go to hang out at the Talon, catch a matinée movie there, or go to the library (she loved that Clark liked to go, and loved that he would pay her late book fines, too), or just do something, just to be with him. Alone. Maybe go back to her place, go into the den or to his Loft. Make out for a while. A long while. And if Pete kept treating her like he was doing, she wouldn't mind keeping Clark to herself and not share anymore.

After a few more yards of Pete leading the hike, or as Chloe called their group, the Blair Witch Rejects (she thought it was hilarious, Clark laughed, and Pete grinned for posterity), Clark moved to the front of the pack. Chloe walked beside him and he led them over the hill, down into the grassy cow pasture, dodging cow pies and the stinky cow smells, and back up the rise into the forest. Despite all the things he carried, Clark easily moved through the rugged terrain, and, like she said she would, Chloe gamely kept up. She wasn't forcing herself at all. It was more like being compelled to follow him. If Clark could take her advice, she could certainly trek behind him; plus, she grinned, she got a nice view of his butt.

Clark led them, because...it was now assumed by Chloe and Pete that he would do it. He had had a stature about him that didn't have anything to do with his height. He had a gravitas around him, a presence that naturally radiated from him. He was a leader, certainly the leader of this group, even when Lana Lang and Whitney Fordman, leaders of their own high school cliques (the Jocks and the Preps), were with them. The best part of Clark's leadership skills was that he didn't really know he was doing it. He lead, unconsciously. Chloe followed him without hesitation. And Pete? He couldn't help but follow his friend. It was a paradigm shift; Pete was the unquestioned leader when it was just him and Clark, before 8th grade, before Chloe and Lex came to town. Now...it wasn't the case. Even the talk was strained; he didn't want to really hear about Chloe and Clark hanging at at the Grandville mall, and he didn't want to share that he and Felice were there, too.

Ever mindful of his girlfriend's physical well-being, Clark stopped every 200 yards or so and they all took a water or juice break, but during the breaks, he had a funny anecdotes for Chloe from his and Pete's camping trips. He told her about the time when he was six years old when he thought that the skeleton of an elk were very small dinosaur bones. Chloe loved it. He also gave her some information about some animals that they spotted (some squirrels or raccoons, and to her delight, a baby fawn in a glade, which Chloe immediately named "Bambi") or about the plants around them (Clark told her about poison ivy and showed her what it looked like, but Chloe didn't really pay attention to him since she was picking flowers for her scrapbook). But Pete noticed that none of the stories included him. Clark didn't do it on purpose, even though he did do things with a purpose, more or less. Pete had never known him not to do something not affecting the big picture.

As they walked, Chloe waved her boyfriend over and whispered rebelliously, "Hey, babe, look." She took a few more steps and hunched down. She looked and saw Clark's eyes dart from her thighs up to her eyes. They shared a secret smile, something Pete couldn't complain about. "No way these bear footprints...right?"

Clark went over and checked the impressions in the packed dirt; they was wider, the heels were deeper in the ground than the by the toes, which were clawed. There were a few of them, but they went deeper into the forest, off their path. "Nope. Not a bear. This thing walked upright. I never encountered anything that had...feet that could make these kind of prints."

"They're huge!" Chloe smiled. She was worried that the camping trip would just just that, nothing but tents and walking. The footprints added that "Wall of Weird" element that she sorely missed, even an hour or two into the trip. "Hmm...I'm gunna take a picture." She raised her camera, focused, and clicked. "I need a size reference... put your big boot by it," she ordered, and Clark complied. He made sure not to crumpled the edge of the print or step into it. "Whoa...The print is way bigger than your boot!"

Clark frowned. "I'm a size fourteen, too."

"It's okay, Clark, I still love you." She took a few more pictures, different angles. "You think these belong to Smallville's answer to Bigfoot?"

"It's called The Shaggy Man."

"Yeah," She went to her knees, and Clark did the same, examining the tracks. "We may have proof of Shaggy. Now, where's Scooby prints?"

Pete looked at Chloe and Clark, kneeling close together, looking at animal tracks, one teaching, one learning, both sharing and laughing; they were The Big Picture, and Pete wasn't in it. "Let's get going to the camp site," he snapped, and started off back on the way to the site. "I don't want to get sidetracked following a forest freak." Chloe shrugged, took one last picture with her digital camera and they followed, caught up and passed Pete. Again.

"I can't help if that footprint was freakin' weird, Petey!" Chloe didn't like that she was arguing so much. She started to go into "Excited By Weirdness Chloe" mode and ramble. "I stayed up last night after going to dinner with Clark, and did some research. I did a quick check on my desktop computer about Bigfoot prints and - - "

Pete cut her off. "It's a vacation. Give it a break."

No one, not even her father ever said that to her. Chloe was suddenly light-headed; Clark braced her arm without hesitation. "I thought you'd be happy I looking into it! It could be a huge story if we - -"

"You don't hunt down The Shaggy Man," Pete said, softening his tone, mostly because he saw Clark's glare. "You'll never find it that way. You have to discover it, stumble upon it, not look for it. Chloe, you don't expect the biggest story of your life fall in your lap, do you?"

Her eyes met Clark's own, the colors of the irises the same shade of green, his a bit brighter, hers a bit softer. That wasn't the only coincidence; Clark told Chloe that he was an alien being, not meteor freak like she privately thought, a few months earlier, when they were on a date. Clark didn't plan on telling her right then, but that day, Destiny and Fate decided that the time was right, however: While Chloe drove her car, one of the front wheels dug into a rut, and her father's car flipped. But just for a few seconds: Clark used his amazing quickness to jump out the window and, with his phenomenal strength, caught the vehicle in mid-air. After that display of power and ability, he couldn't help but tell her everything, what he knew of his origin, of his arrival to Smallville during the meteors shower. He loved her so much but was scared, scared that she'd reject him now, or write about him. Chloe said she'd protect him, that she loved him, consoled him, with his head on her thighs. By coincidence, sometimes the biggest story of of your life DOES fall in your lap, she thought. But she said, "Err...No, I don't."

"So give it a break, Chloe," Pete said simply. "Twenty-four hours, no investigating."

"I can't." It was hard for Chloe Sullivan to admit that; investigative reporting was her life-blood. "That's a long time."

"Take a break from the twenty-four hour monitor duty." Pete smiled. "I know you have the willpower."

"I might get the shakes," She lamented, and gave her boyfriend a pout. She had been tracking down leads since she could remember.

"I'll help you through your withdrawals," Clark said tenderly, and gently squeezed her hand. He heard her heart flutter then race. He sniffed the air and her body spray was mixing with a tinge of sweat; she still was the sweetest thing that he had ever breathed in.

They leaned in to kiss, but Pete reminded them, "None of that."

"Dang!" Chloe kicked a rock as she pulled away from her boyfriend. "It would have been a quick kiss...just a few minutes," she giggled. Clark blushed. "Okay...I'll give it a try. You two can never say I don't try anything new."

Pete laughed. "You need a hobby."

"I have hobbies," Chloe smiled, and winked at Clark. His skin flushed even more to her delight.

"Clark doesn't count," Pete quipped.

"Oh, you shush!" She laughed and it felt like old times again. They left the area, having missed out on seeing The Shaggy Man leave the foot prints by less than forty minutes. Another mile into the forest, they went up one more tree-filled rise and there was an opening in the tree trunks. Chloe stood at the edge and marveled at seeing the small valley, sliced with a stream. It was a landmark for the boys. They set down their backpacks and grabbed their drinks, and ate some trail mix. "That's so pretty," she gushed and took pictures with her digital camera.

"It's a great view," Pete admitted, and took the pair of binoculars out their case. "I think that's a hawk," he shouted and followed the bird.

"I wanna see!" Chloe tugged at his windbreaker. "C'mon Petey! Share!"

"Okay, okay! Here," he said to her, "check that bird out." Chloe quickly took the binoculars. "Don't get fingerprints all over...ohh man.."

"Sorry." Chloe cleaned off the lenses with her flannel, and followed the hawk with the binoculars, watched it soar on wind current, then dive, and it snagged a field mouse near the stream.

"Oh man," She gasped. "Mickey's toast."

"There's another one!" Pete yelped. He followed it as best he could. He looked up and saw his taller friend squinting up in the sunny sky. "Don't hog them, Chloe. Let Clark use them."

"Ha! Like he needs them with his vision." Chloe kept the binoculars, and found the new bird of prey in the blue skies. "He can see all those feathers from here." Clark coughed, spittle rained from his mouth. She winced and looked at Pete. "I mean..err..."

"I know Clark has 20-20 vision, but he couldn't be able to see the hawk's feathers...what are talking about, Chloe?" Pete looked at her, then at Clark. His friend wiped the spit from his chin and shrugged.

"That's what I meant, Petey" Chloe smiled and jammed the binoculars at Clark. She closed her eyes when he said thanks sharply. "He has 20-20 vision. He has such good eyesight he probably could see all the feathers...ha ha...ha" The last 'ha' was quiet, lifeless, and she plopped down on the dirt. She watched Clark and Pete scan the skies for more hawks, and realized that it if was hard for her to keep quiet about his powers and abilities, maybe that was reason he hadn't told Pete about them yet; it was too easy to mess up and expose him. She felt bad again for nearly blowing Clark's ruse. She needed to change the topic. "Why don't we walk along the stream?"

Pete answered, now looking through the binoculars. He let Chloe handle them all the time but he was still annoyed she was careless with them this one time. "Too many bees and the ground is too muddy."

"Plus, it makes me sick," Clark said, turning and giving her a smile, one that forgave her. Then he mouthed to her, 'I love you', and turned back to Pete. She gasped at the sheer romance of it. Neither boy noticed her flop back onto the dirt and hug herself with a big, gleeful smile.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Eight

The romantic glee that Chloe felt about Clark's super-romantic gesture to her was, unfortunately,short-lived. The happy blonde and the boys made their way deeper into the forest, going over fallen trees, following landmarks that kept them on track towards the campsite. Twice Pete slipped away and came back, looking relieved. Now, between tree trunks and saplings, around sparse thickets of bushes, she felt her bladder ache. She tried to go a few more yards, but couldn't anymore. "Umm...guys," Chloe said, dropping back, stopping and rubbing the insides of her thighs together, "I need to use the bathroom."

"We're in a forest, Chloe. There's no bathrooms here," Clark turned, tried not to smile at what he thought was a witty remark, especially when he saw her frown. He wondered when the city girl needed to use the woodland facilities. She looked around nervously, and even though she had meandered through the woods with the boys for a couple of hours, she finally saw the trees for the forest, and the trees weren't packed together as they were maybe a few hundred yards back. There wasn't much coverage, not for what she needed to do urgently.

"You're not going back, are you?" Pete asked, seeing the grimace on her face. He slid off his backpack, and wondered, with all the stops they were making, if they'd make the campsite by dusk.

"And get my butt lost?" Chloe was annoyed with Pete's lack of sympathy. "Besides...I need to go... now now now!"

Pete pointed, his finger aimed at some vague spot in the woods. "Just pop a squat over there."

Chloe looked at him, eyes wide. "You're kidding."

"Or...um - -," Clark sheepishly started to say while he set down his backpack. He looked at his now squirming girlfriend. He wished he could pick her up _gently _run her back to his house with his otherworldly speed. He saw the look on her face and he could tell she was thinking the same thing. "- - You could stick your butt out and do what you need to do..."

"Oh man...you're _not_kidding," Chloe said sadly, and the boys nodded to her. "Okay...I've been in worse situations than this. I can do it." She shrugged off her backpack, dug into her knapsack, took out the fat roll of Charmin toilet paper and quickly scampered between the trees, trying to find thick tree trunk to hide behind, or some bushes, anything to conceal her body parts and what she need to do badly. Chloe zigzagged through the foliage, or lack there of, and whispered, "I know you can hear me. Don't you dare sneak any peeks at me, Clark Kent. I know you are looking at my butt. My buns feel hot. Stop. You can do that later, though. It feels good on my back."

Usually, she didn't mind the warmth of Clark's heat vision on her, but the warm feeling wasn't helping her now with her achy bladder. Finally, unable to go on any further, unable to find a place suitable to hide, and not wanting to wander too far away, Chloe stopped looking and decided that being behind the tree she was standing near was good enough for her needs. She wrapped the flailing flannel around her waist, unbuttoned her pants, slipped them down with her undies, and tried to go about her business. But the rocks and the uneven ground weren't helping her; she squatted, wobbled, and settled herself down as best she could by holding onto the bark of the tree and the toilet paper. It was quiet, just the rustle of the leaves, but Chloe still didn't want to make any embarrassing sounds, especially because of Clark's hearing. She waited. And waited. And waited some more.

"Great," Chloe whispered to herself angrily. "My bladder feels like it's going to burst, then when I get my pretty butt exposed to nature...not a single...ahhhh." Chloe's wait was happily over. She closed her eyes and grinned. Hunching forward, she tried not to mess the soles of her boots and when she shifted on her heels, she dropped the toilet paper and saw it roll away from her, snagging on a rock. "Drat!"

Chloe was happy that she was flexible, able to twist this way, and turn that way, curl up and stretch out, but she wasn't on her blue tacky-grip yoga mat, wasn't in the privacy of her bedroom, and she wasn't in her soft, pliableleggings and tee-shirt. No, today was the day Chloe Sullivan decided to reach out with her Doc Marten boots on, and with her pants and undies at her ankles. Instead of grabbing the roll of toilet paper, Chloe lost her balance, overcompensated by rocking back too much and ended up falling into the watery mess. Her pants, panties, legs and butt were suddenly wet and sticky.

"**OH NO! OH MY GOD**!"

"Chloe!" Clark yelled, a little too loudly for Pete's ears, who rubbed them after the outburst. The super-powered teen took a quick step, but fought the urge to run to her because he quickly scanned the area where her scream came from and he could see the peachy color of her thighs. "What happened?"

Chloe sat, looked over to where the boys were, covered her exposed hip with hand (Clark scolded himself; she said not to look), embarrassed to move anymore. "I fell over! I'm a mess!"

Of course, Pete laughed at that, thinking it was hilarious. "You fell over! **CLASSIC**!"

"It's not funny, Pete!" Chloe was close to tears. " Shut up!"

"It IS funny," Pete answered back again. He laughed harder at her friend's predicament. Clark felt bad; he wanted to zip to his girlfriend's side, and he wanted to slug Pete for making fun of her. Neither was a viable option.

"No...really...it's not funny...this sucks," Chloe whimpered. She slowly picked herself up, feeling the dirt stick to her bottom and to the backs of her thighs. She felt icky. Then she felt queasy. Now she knew why Clark's heat vision felt so good on her lower back: she learned in the worst way possible that it was her time of the month. After she moved, she could spot all the tale-tell signs on the dirt, her boot-heels, her pant legs, and her undies. She got the toilet paper and cleaned up as best she could under the circumstances. However, the dark leakage continued from her body. She crouched, helpless. A few minutes passed and her legs started to ache.

"Hey, Chloe," Clark yelled out. "You've been out there for a while now...You okay?"

"Not really," she mumbled, knowing his super-hearing could pick it up. Then she yelled it out, for Pete.

"Just pick yourself up and clean yourself off and come _on_," Pete said and strapped on his backpack. He had a feeling that this situation wouldn't be over for a while.

"I can't!" She couldn't let her boys see her all soiled, especially in this manner. The black jeans did hide some wetness in the dark tint of the material...but she was already feeling gross, and walking around in her condition would make more of a mess...and that would NOT feel good at all.

Pete let out a long annoyed sigh. He thought now they'd make it to camp by midnight. "Why not?"

"I just can't!"

"Chloe," Pete shouted, giving Clark an exasperated look, "we're all friends...so what if you peed on your shoes?"

"I wish that's all I did!"

"Chloe...stuff happens." Clark remembered something to prove that point. "Heck, one time Pete got explosive diarrhea." She chuckled hearing that; she'd laugh harder, but she didn't want to fall over again or move around; her boots were already squishing into the dirt. Besides, it was good to laugh at Pete's misfortune since he laughed at her.

"DUDE!" Pete's eyes went wide, and memories of gripping his lower abdomen and screaming out in terror, wondering if the madness would ever stop, flooded his mind, like he had flooded his pants.

Clark looked at the shocked, shamed expression on his friend's face, and added, "A few years ago, I was so sick I hurled all over the place. Projectile vomit!"

"Ew!" She scrunched her nose at Clark's admission. But she thought of Pete's horror and again giggled.

"So really, Chloe," Clark explained, trying to make her feel better, "you're maintaining a tradition."

"I'll feel better about that fact when I get what I need!" Her buns, among other things, were getting cold.

"What do you need?" Pete hollered out. "Walls and a toilet?"

Chloe bit her lip then spoke. "It's personal!"

"We all have body functions, Chloe..."

"Pete...your my friend," Chloe sighed resignedly, "but it's _girl _personal stuff! " Clark and Pete looked at each other wide-eyed, and the reality of Chloe's predicament hit them; it wasn't just an ordinary, run of the mill bathroom humor, but something more...feminine. They were speechless; what could they say to console her now? Both knew that they certainly couldn't laugh at her now. "I take it by the silence you both understand now!" They both yelled out that they understood.

She started to think what she'd do if she were in her bathroom; she'd take care everything so easily. This time, though, instead of having everything within reach inside the cream-colored walls of her bathroom, what she needed was in what her boys had with them: her backpack, which had her other pants and her other undies. And she brought along, just in case, thank god she thought, some of her winged Stayfree maxi-pads. She looked over at her boys, with a sad frown; she couldn't just walk to the boys, wet and sticky and get her stuff.

Chloe took a big step in her relationship with her boyfriend. "Clark...umm...in my backpack," she began slowly, whispering just for his ears only, "I have some ...pads."

"Hey Chloe," Clark yelled, nervous about what she was going to ask him next, "want your backpack?"

"I can't really move, Clark," Chloe yelled back and sighed. She whispered again. "You'll have to hand them to me."

"Um...You sure you don't want your back pack?" Clark pleaded. He never had to handle feminine products before. He and Chloe never really talked about her time of the month before, either; she would warn him that she wasn't going to be pleasant to be with like usual during the week, not to get mad if her snark was more biting than normal, and to be ready to ply her with coffees and candies and that was that about the matter. Then he heard her whisper out to him...

"Clark..." Her voice was light, worried he'd be a_ guy _and act all squeamish, and not act he was supposed to act, like her..._man_. "Please, please help me."

"Don't worry, Chloe, I'm doing it, Clark shouted and she smiled. Pete just watched his friend, wondering why Clark was carrying on a one-sided conversion with his girlfriend. Clark turned, saw Pete's look and smiled, and shouted out to Chloe yell louder.

"OK," She answered back, guessing that Pete might be looking at Clark all weird, but whispered to her boyfriend that the pads were in a plastic bag, at the bottom the backpack. "I need pants - - " She whispered again to Clark, " - - and um...undies."

"Oh...okay." Clark unzipped her backpack, rolled his eyes at Pete like it was a pain to do what Chloe asked, reached down to the bottom of the backpack, found the bag and he held it while he felt for her pants. He yanked out a pair of maroon khakis, and he saw her undies, folded neatly. He grabbed the ones on top, a white and blue square. He tried to remove the undies from the bag before Pete could see, but the cotton unfurled and Pete saw what Clark was holding, and the design on the panties.

Chloe heard Pete's loud laugh again. "What? Why are you laughing?"

"It's just that your undies are," Clark said loudly, gazing at the small pieces of fabric, holding the softest material he ever felt on his fingertips, "cute."

Her mind skimmed through which ones she brought and cringed. One of the three extra pairs she packed wasn't a normal brief, but a tiny bikini. It was also a novelty style, with her favorite cartoon character silk-screened on them, "Underdog". Right on the front panel of fabric was the anthropomorphic hero, a faint-yellow beagle flexing his muscles in a droopy blue cape and a baggy red costume with a "U" on the chest. On the back of the undies, on the right side, was a large "U". Ever since she was a little kid, Chloe loved the "Underdog" cartoon, loved that she found Underdog undies, and loved that Clark reminded her of being like "Underdog", so much so that she wanted to go to Lana Lang's Halloween costume party as Underdog's girlfriend, "Sweet Polly Purebred" and have Clark dress up like "Underdog".

Then a thought flashed in her head: maybe he had already seen her in those undies, in her bras...or less. But she knew Clark wouldn't try anything like that; she'd notice if he did, by how much he'd blush or something, and so far, he hadn't looked that way to her. He looked at her with puppy-love eyes, not like a satyr would, desirous and lustful, like _she_ looked at _him_. Right now though, her pretty undies were in his hands, and she knew what he was doing. "Stop ogling at my undies!"

"We're not!" Clark quickly bunched up the undies in his fist, and clutched her pants, with the bag of pads hidden in the folds. He set down the backpack, and looked over to her again, but not using any powers to actually see her.

"Speak for yourself, Clark! Stop being a perv!" Pete said, and laughed some more. He was having some fun; sure it was at Chloe's expense, but now his mood darkened again. His laughter died he realized that Clark was the first one between them to have in their hands the undies of the girl they were dating.

"Quit Joking!" Chloe shouted, her legs shaking, aching from crouching. She held onto the tree, but the bark was falling off from her fingers gripping the surface so hard. "Don't make this harder than it is!"

"Okay," Clark said, and walked out in her direction, into the trees. "Here I come with your stuff."

"I know you can follow My voice - - " She yelled, but her voice dropped to a whisper as she started to untie her boots; she'd had to take off her pants, and underwear, and put the clean ones on. She continued, "but you have to close your eyes...or look away when I say so, alright?...My butt isn't covered up well."

"Okay!" Clark could find Chloe without using his vision powers, not using his telescopic sight, the infra-red vision that he was developing or his ability to look through objects; now, ever since the carnival, he seemed to be attuned to her presence, sometimes strong by closeness or faint by separation, but attuned: now he was guided by his ears, listening to the quickening beat of her heart, the fast shallow breaths rushing in and out of her lungs, and he was led by his nose, able to pick out her scent, breathing in the unusual sweetness of her skin, separating from other smells that surrounded her. He just had to relax, and there were the familiar sounds and scents. He walked towards her, eyes closed like she asked but sooner than she wanted, guided by whispers, heartbeats, and sweet scents. He didn't misstep or walk into anything.

"Keep your eyes closed! Keep them closed!" Chloe was peeking out from the round, jagged edge of the tree-trunk that she hoped hid her butt, and she desperately didn't want Clark to see her half-naked or any evidence of what she did at the tree. He got closer, and stopped when she said so. "Sorry," she whispered, her voice barely above a sigh. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Chloe. Really." A genuine smile appeared on his face, and her frown melted; Clark may have been fifteen, but he was_ her _man. They had been through a lot together lately, near-deaths and last second saves, and they both grew closer during those times. It wasn't a crazed "meteor freak" or an out of town biological-terrorist like Professor Sivana this time, it was the two of them sharing something very intimate, bigger than anything they have shared before, a big step for them as a couple.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Okay, before I do something stupid like jump up and hug you," Chloe smiled, "turn your back so I can get dressed." He did, and she stood, grimaced at the sticky, wet feeling, and stripped off her shoes, undies and pants. She winced when she stepped on a pointy rock; her sox didn't provide the protection her boots offered her feet. Silently, she cleaned up again, and he handed back to her first the baggie at her prompting, then the cute undies. She was a little more relaxed, feeling cleaner; she joked, "You can't see behind your back, right? No eyes back of your head so you scope me out?"

"No," He laughed. "At least they haven't developed yet, darn it."

"Clark!" She squealed and smacked his back playfully; things were back to normal. She arranged the pad in the undies like she needed to, slipped on the undies, followed up with the khakis, zipped and buttoned and leaned on Clark while she put back on her boots. She balled up her dirty clothes and hop-stepped over the wet ground, and stood by Clark. "Not to squick you out even more," Chloe's eyes darted from her boyfriend, "but...things weren't supposed to start for a few more days."

"Oh." He didn't care what Pete or their parents would say or do to him; he leaned in and gave her a kiss on her cold cheek. It wasn't a Midol, or four of her precious 'Clark' chocolate candy bars, but it did help her feel better, even when she saw him noticed the wet marks in the dirt, and shrugged with a smile; she adored him even more. He didn't care about that stuff, he cared for her. He took her hand and they walked out to Pete.

"Sorry," Chloe said again, red-faced, this time to her friend when she saw him. Not only did she share this moment with Clark, she had to share it in a way with Pete. She was worried he was mad, by the way he leaned against tree, arms folded. He wasn't mad at her, he was mad that he was no where as close to the girls that he liked, girls like Felice, Erica, and, even though he never mentioned it, Lana, like Clark was with Chloe.

"It's 'aight." Pete smiled despite the way he felt and surprised her with a quick hug. "Wanna go back? I'd understand if you want to..."

"No." She shook her head. Then she gave both boys a big fake smile. "If I can maintain the 'embarrassing body functions tradition', I can maintain the whole camping trip experience."

"I knew you wouldn't quit," Pete grinned. They walked on and Pete watched them; Chloe walked closer to Clark, leaning on him, and at times, it seemed that he lifted her over logs and carried her on his hip effortlessly when they needed to go up hill. Maybe his eyes were playing with him, Pete wondered, like a few times in the past. With each new step, Pete's sympathy for Chloe faded, and his anger at them, for being teenagers in love, for not hanging out with him, for treating him like a third wheel, a third wheel even on HIS camping trip, had returned.

"I'm getting tired," Chloe admitted, hanging on to Clark's arm. They stopped for some juices or water, and snacked. She wasn't cramping up yet, but the walking with the backpack, and the need for the pad was getting to her. She looked at Clark and let her bottom lip puff out.

"We're almost there," Clark lied. He didn't want to discourage his girlfriend. He smiled at her, sat on a collapsed tree trunk, and she sat on his thigh, explaining to Pete that she could only sit on soft surfaces now. "Just a few more...yards to go."

"Yards?" Pete looked at Clark and Chloe, sitting together, looking at her head forlornly on his shoulder, and tried to hide a smile. "More like a few miles..."

"Bleech." Chloe stuck out her tongue and tummy tightened up with that new information. She leaned on her boyfriend even more. Yup, this was her last camping trip, she decided. "You two go on. And carry me with you!"

Clark looked at his best friend with a glare in his eye as the girl on his thigh sagged and whimpered. "Thanks Pete."

Pete took a drink of his Gatorade, and savored the taste; it was cold, like the revenge he was getting on Clark and Chloe, treating them as badly as they had been treating him.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER NINE**

The site really wasn't a few more miles to the where the boys always set up camp like Pete had said to Chloe; he just wanted to take the smiles off the faces of Clark and his girlfriend (that were pretty much gone, anyways). They walked, or in Chloe's case, trudged, for about 40 more minutes through the cottonwood forest. The teens went through a couple of small clearings that Chloe had hoped that they were the camp-grounds but each time her head dropped with disappointment when Clark told her that they weren't stopping at all, especially near the second clearing. That area made him feel awful; his muscles and bones felt like they were on fire, stomach churned, and he felt that body parts raced within him to see which parts would escape from his mouth or butt somehow. Clark took one more step and slumped against his girlfriend, nearly toppled her. It was his turn to give a pitiful look to Chloe, who was now pulling him along, helping him _survive_.

"Did a...meteor crash around here?" Chloe asked Pete with a groan; she had seen Clark use his powers, had seen him use them when he would show-off for her (like getting her a Venti from a Starbucks in Metropolis, proudly showing her the receipt) or when he fought the meteor freaks, and Clark looked like a God, super-strong, with other powers and abilities far beyond...humankind. In her eyes, he could do just about anything...as long as he wasn't around the meteor rocks. They were Clark's secret weakness: big fat chunks of a green glowing meteor to even the thinnest sliver. The rocks could affect him very badly, possibly even kill him. Just like Chloe knew about his powers and abilities, she also knew that final secret between them and she knew how to save him: when the rocks started to hurt him, had him in pain, maybe even killing him, she knew that she had to get the pieces of the rocks away from him quickly. Or drag him away, like she was now.

Pete nodded at her question, paying no mind that she was struggling with her big lug of a boyfriend; Clark out-weighed her by at least 100 pounds. Pete had to drag Clark around for years, either in the forest or by Greg Arkin's tree house, or by the river, or by Crater Lake, so he didn't feel the need to help; it was Chloe's turn. "Yeah...way over there. I found the crater, but Clark didn't want to see it. Why?"

Chloe looked at Clark, his eyes closed tightly, a dry tongue licking his lips. It didn't look hot to her as usual. "Oh...just wondering..."

The three made it out of that clearing, and Clark felt better, walking on his own, thanking Pete for not helping with a good natured shove on his shoulder that made Pete stumble and the tallest of the campers gave a look to Chloe that made her squirm while she walked along side him, holding his hand. The big guy laughed off feeling sick, saying something in the area must have kicked off an allergic reaction. Pete wondered why he didn't have any medicine for it. Chloe laughed and said the Clark's pharmacy doesn't carry that kind of medicine. That remark set off Pete; he asked why Clark never seemed to get sick other than with that allergy. Clark shrugged the question off like always, saying his family's organically grown food was a huge factor in keeping him healthy. Chloe chimed in that it was all the chores making him all big and strong. The couple laughed when Pete made fake retching sounds. Finally, Pete reached the top of a thickly treed rise, and let the sun and wind bear down on him.

"Hey! We're here!" Pete Rodney Ross wondered if town founder, Jebadiah Obadiah Small, felt the same exhilaration when he found the spot that would become Smallville that he himself had now overlooking the campsite: the ground that he stood on sloped to the boy's favorite place to camp, a grassy flatland, a wide expanse that had a simple meandering creek with pebbly banks. There weren't as many trees on the opposite of the creek; the grassland became fields of wheat and corn a mile away. Pete spun around, looked at Clark and Chloe, and also wondered if the town founder had seen the same tired and grimy faces like Pete saw staring back at him. "The view was even more beautiful than last year!"

"We're here?" A bright, toothy smile flashed on Chloe's tired face. "This is really the place, no joking, not going any farther?" She looked hopefully at Clark, eyes wide, face soft. He nodded back and she hugged him tightly before Pete could react and scold them. They hustled up the rise and stood by Pete, wanting to bask in the sun, too. Clark loved the place, it was peaceful, quiet, a place like his Loft, a place that offered him a sense of solitude...well, the Loft did offer a sense of solitude before Chloe moved to town. Now, the upstairs room in the barn that his father called the "Fortress of Solitude" had some trinkets that marked the blond's presence. He liked sharing it, like he shared the camping trip with her.

Chloe, on the other hand, was too tired and feeling too icky to really appreciate the beautiful view. Her snarky attitude, never took time off, however. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see a vast empty space. "

"C'mon..." Pete shook his head; was she going to complain the whole trip? "You're not going to bag on the walk here are you?"

"No, Pete. It was a stroll compared to the Trail of Tears..." She rubbed her neck; her shoulders and neck muscles were achy, from carrying her backpack and dragging Clark along. She squinted because it was windy; the whooshing air was hard on her eyes and Pete's eyes, too. Clark didn't have any problems at all, but like always, pretended that he did, and he squinted, too. "I'd like it more if I wasn't ...you know."

"This is where we camp every year," Clark whispered to Chloe, caressing her hand in a way she liked, his thumb stroking her knuckle. "It's awesome here: we fish, we spot animals. It is like our own private Smallville." Before Pete looked at them, Clark leaned over and kissed the top of her hat. She beamed, and she whispered into the wind, barely audible, "I love you, too."

Suddenly, Pete dumped his backpack and broke off into a run, yelling at Clark, hollering that he was slower than cold molasses. Clark quickly let go of Chloe's hand, set down the small ice chest that he had held on his hip, shrugged off his backpack and she watched her boyfriend run down the slope after his friend. She laughed at them, how Pete was screaming that the last one to the stream was a rotten egg and how Clark was totally running at what she knew was a slow pace for him. She heard Clark yell out that she was going to be the rotten egg, since she was going to be last. She grinned and didn't mind being the last one to get to the river; she wasn't going to run, not in her body's condition. But she dropped her backpack and went down to congratulate Clark, who was laughing and kicking water on Pete's legs at the creek's edge.

Clark greeted her on the grassy bank with a smile that warmed her wind-chilled skin, and his hand found her little hand. She squeezed back. They stood close, and Clark motioned towards the water. "Does it look familiar, Chloe?"

"Oh man! That's right! Pete laughed, realizing what Clark meant before Chloe.

"No..." She looked at Pete, then Clark, her eyebrows furrowing, suspicious. "You guys don't do some weird hazing thing and dunk the new person in the water, do you?" She started to pull away from her boyfriend. "If that's the case...I'm outta here!"

Clark laughed and shook his head. "No...we're not going dunking you. This creek weaves it's way from over there," he pointed past the forest from which they walked out, pointed towards his house. "This is the one we rafted on in 8th grade..."

Chloe remembered, along with Clark and Pete; for their English class term project, they had the brilliant idea to re-create the raft scene from Tom Sawyer. They spent most of their spring break making the raft, Clark doing most of the actual woodwork, Pete taking pictures with his camera and video-taping it with his camcorder, and Chloe writing about it. They took it (with help from Clark's dad, who transported the raft in the back of his truck) to the river. The water was calm and they floated peacefully for 30 minutes or so. However, instead of going right at the fork in the river's path, they went left, and ended up in very choppy water. Then things got worse; the river suddenly became water-water rapids, and the young teens were thrown into the water. Pete got to the banks first, and Clark held onto a boulder in the water. Chloe wasn't so lucky; her boot was caught in the branches of a submerged tree, and after screaming for Clark, she went under the foamy water. Seconds after her world went black, Clark got to her, dragged her to the muddy banks and performed CPR. He didn't care that she coughed up water all into his face, or cried in his arms so hard she threw up; Chloe was safe. It was the first time he saved her life. For their efforts, they got an A grade on their report.

She shivered and leaned into her protector. "Oh...THAT river." She grabbed a rock and tossed it into the water angrily. Then she looked at Clark. "Hey...that river isn't miles and miles and miles from your house," she wondered, "it's just like - -," she calculated in her head, " - - like six or seven city blocks. Why did we do the Smallville Death March through the forest?"

"Clark's fault," Pete said simply. "The big guy here always get sick somewhere out here," Pete told her, and Clark's head bobbed in agreement. "He'd get sick anywhere, like around here...the stables over at Lana's place...Crater Lake...the tree house that we had with Greg Arkin." Then Pete remembered something and told Chloe, "Clark was so sick once that he fell while climbing the ladder to get into the tree house. Greg was looking out the doorway and said that Clark landed right on his head and bounced a few feet!" Pete laughed at the memory. "He had the stupidest look on his face when we got to him. It was sorta funny."

Chloe gasped, her hand at her open mouth, eyes wide. In her mind, she saw her boyfriend's head cracking the ground, his neck snapping, his body falling limp. She clutched at Clark. Anger flared up in her, at Pete, for him making light of Clark's fall. "You had to be there, I guess," Chloe said ruefully at Pete. "He coulda broke his neck..."

Clark saw the look in his girlfriend's eyes; she was giving Pete 'The Chloe Death Stare'. Even he was afraid of that. He smiled weakly at his petite protector. "I shook it off...rubbed some dirt on it."

"We tried to eat lunch in that last clearing one time," Pete explained to Chloe, looking at the path, not at her stare, "but he got sick after he ate some green pea salad. He got awesome distance hurling it...and ... - - "

"Okay, stop!" She scrunched her nose; she saw Clark do many things, but not throw up, and it wasn't on her priority list. She looked up at Clark, "I'm sorry, babe, but that's just icky gross."

"Sorry," her boyfriend mumbled, head swaying on his neck. She saw the disappointed look on his face; he saw her throw-up a few times before, from illness or bad food and didn't act all squicky like she was acting. She smiled at him meekly, said sorry and he winked slowly. "Instead of following the river for miles to get here and me getting really sick," his voice more clearer, louder, "Pete and I take the less direct route through the forest...and I just get moderately sick."

"My poor baby". Chloe smiled, and Clark blushed. Pete rolled his eyes. She asked, "So you guys walk miles and miles for this spot?

"This," Pete splayed out his hands, grinning, "is a _hidden_ spot. Not on any map that Clark and me could find. It's a special place."

"I'm sure it is special," Chloe grinned. The wind whipping through the valley and they decided to first set up their tents before they did anything else. Clark got his pack and Chloe's, too, at her direction, and Pete surprised her by wanting to help her with her tent. She was all for it, since he was acting all mean and distant, and didn't mind when he did all the work. She didn't know that he purposely did a half-ass job of setting up the tent, and his smile wasn't from a job well done, but in anticipation of what might happen to the tent at night time.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER TEN**

Later on that day, after the tents were set up in a triangle around a rock-lined pit that would later hold the camp fire, and with their gear stored inside their tents, the teens decided to brave the blustery wind and fish at the creek. Bass fishing was a tradition that Pete and Clark shared when they camped out, talking about nothing in particular, especially not fishing, joking about classmates or what they saw on the TV, not really caring if they caught anything, which was a good thing because, since they talked so much and laughed so loudly, they never caught any of the largemouth bass that darted around in the creek. The most that they ever got were nibbles on the fat, slimy earthworms that they used as bait, scooped up fresh from the mud. Clark wanted to share that fishing experience, the fun, relaxing part with Chloe, too. The boys unpacked their Neptune Perkins Signature Brand telescopic poles and they set up the rods (Pete had a "Black Manta" model, Clark had a "King Shark" model, and for Chloe, Clark bought his girlfriend her very first rod and reel, the "Ocean Master", which he assembled for her. Pete didn't mind her giving Clark a hug for the gift) and they went back to the creek.

But this camping trip, Pete Ross fished alone. He started out standing by the rocky edge of the water with Chloe and Clark but he ended up standing far away, casting the hook and bait far into the creek, trolling it for just a few seconds, and reeling back in, reeling furiously, bitter, alone. He tried to catch an elusive bass, but when he was standing next to Clark and Chloe, they didn't make it any easier; he instantly got annoyed with their inane chatter, at how the two laughed and giggled about Chloe being scared of worms. Pete didn't want to hear Clark explaining to Chloe the ins and outs of fishing for bass, teaching her how to do everything just so. Where the water met the rocks, Clark was the teacher and Chloe was his apt pupil; him showing her how to cast, standing behind her and going through the motions, swinging his hips with hers, swinging his arm and her arm back in the side-arm motion he used to cast, showing her when to release the line and how to reel the hook back. She got the hang of it quickly, maybe swinging her pert bottom a little too much for Clark's sake but he said she was doing fine, though, so she kept doing it. But what really ticked off Pete was that that Chloe caught the a largemouth bass twenty minutes after she was fishing without Clark's help, just under his watchful eye.

"Can you keep it down!" Pete yelled as she screamed with delight after Clark yanked the brown speckled bass out of the water after she had reeled it close to the banks. Now, Pete was mad, mad at Chloe for catching a fish, mad at Clark for bringing her along, and mad at himself for not being a lousy fisherman. He rarely got hits on his bait. "I am trying to fish over here!"

"Good luck with THAT, Pete!" Chloe gloated, grabbing Clark's arm, shaking it, making the bass wiggle even more in his grasp (she did not want to touch that slimy fishy thing, but touching Clark was a whole other matter) and grinned in a smarmy way that infuriated Pete even more. "Clark just said this was the first fish ever caught on your camping trip... - - " She suddenly broke into a little dance that neither boy ever seen her do, her legs and arms pumping, her body twirling, a crazy smile on her face. Then she dropped the fishing pole and had inadvertently kicked it out to the water; Clark was mesmerized by the show Chloe put on, and how her chest and tight pants had starring roles. She pointed at Clark and stuck her finger at Pete. "IN YOUR FACE! IN YOUR FACE!" Both of the boy's jaws dropped. "What? I'm excited!" She whooped a few more times. Then her shouts died when Clark tossed the bass back into the creek. "Hey...why are you doing that? GIMME MY BASS! IT'S MINE!"

"We're not going to eat it, Chloe," Clark calmly explained to his hysterical girlfriend. "And we have nothing to save it in...so back in it goes."

"Oh." She nodded; it was true, it wasn't like he was being mean and tossing the bass back on purpose, like she thought that Pete might have done; she liked that Pete was away a bit, on his own, and she shot down Clark's suggestions to call Pete over. If Pete was going to be a drag, she figured, let him do that away from her and her hunny. "Okay then. I'll just have to catch another one," Chloe sassed to Clark with a wicked glint in her eye. "It's real easy! I don't know why you two never caught any fishes. Just watch my technique, big boy and learn how the "Chloexpert" does it. Maybe I'll get my show, 'Chloe Sullivan's Sweet Bass.' on that sports channel you like to watch "

"I'd watch that show," Clark laughed at her cocky attitude. She winked and gave her hips a little wiggle for him. A happy thought popped into his head that maybe she'd like to go on more fishing trips, with just him, at more secluded fishing holes. He smiled, the dimples deep in the corners of the grin and she shivered when she saw them. But before he could ask her if she did want to go on those trips, Pete's laugh shattered the moment.

"Not if your pole is in the water, superstar..." Pete smiled, and pointed with his free hand. "It's sorta an important part of fishing!"

"What?" Chloe's green eyes followed an imaginary line from Pete's fingertips to the last section of the fishing rod handle dip beneath the water's surface. Pete smile grew larger when she screamed, "Clark! You see it!...Don't let it just sink...Go get it! Use your speed to - -" Then she caught herself, caught herself maybe revealing too much about Clark's power of super-speed, and tried to recover by saying, "- - speed to ...um...come here and console me with a hug...Yeah...a hug...'cuz I lost that pole...it was a present, so...I might need a big hug, too!"

Clark embraced her, to shut her up about his powers, her lousy attempt at lying, and to feel her next to him. She whispered that she was sorry again, so sorry. He whispered that he wondered what he was going to do to her, and she whispered back that he could do just about anything, but not anything this weekend since Pete was around. Clark stammered. She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at him as they broke off the hug at Pete's shout to quit it. They went back to fishing, Clark letting her use his pole, which Chloe relished.

They didn't catch any more fish, but Chloe didn't care and neither did Clark. It was the first time the girl ever went to fishing, and she actually liked it, liked that Clark took his time and explained every facet of it all and answered her questions. At first, Chloe didn't want to hold the worms, flinging one into the water seconds after Clark placed a wiggly earthworm onto her palm. But, as always, she was a trooper, and she ended up being able to set the worm on the barbed hook. She asked when could they fish again, Clark adored her even more and they agreed on going "deep creek fishing" in two weeks. They had fun.

Pete didn't have fun, though. He shook his head, angry, as he watched them. For the rest of his afternoon, he stayed away from Chloe and Clark, tired of listening to them, wanting to tell them to shut up, to not make so much noise. He kept moving downstream, sidestepping on the curvy banks, on the mud and the slippery rocks, until he was about thirty feet away from their chatter and giggles, away from all their _fun_. In the back of his mind, he knew that they weren't making as much noise as he and Clark ever made while fishing at this creek. But now it wasn't the tandem of Pete and Clark doing the laughing, it was Clark and Chloe. The afternoon slipped by the three teens like the wind, fast and cold. But only two of them didn't notice the time or weather, just the joy of experiencing something new. The other stood alone, and it didn't feel new, wasn't enjoyable and the coldness that he felt was aimed at the happy couple.

Chloe was tired, from her condition, of fishing, standing, and of applying balm to fight the wind that was trying to chap her lips. She watched out for Pete as Clark, in a blink of eye, toppled a small tree, snapped it in half, his hands hollowing it out and ripped off the limbs, giving them something to sit on, since she didn't want to sit on the dirt, thank you very much, carried the still-heavy log easily with one hand and placed it by where the camp fire would be later. Since Pete was out of sight, she kissed him.

"Let's eat now," Clark suggested after the kiss. He still held her close. He looked at Chloe and hoped the mischief on his mind wasn't visible on his face. "You brought your own food, right?" He tried not to break into a smile when her face went blank. "I thought I told you..."

"Say what?" She stared at him, leaning back in his grasp, wondering if he was joking. She stared into his eyes, trying to use her hard gaze to make him buckle and tell the truth, like she used on people she interviewing for a story. But Clark didn't waver this time, and she panicked. "Oh my god! You didn't say anything like that...you didn't say bring your own food! I didn't know! I'm gonna starve!"

While she flailed around, Clark went and got the ice chest from his tent. He took off the top of the chest and grabbed a silvery lump. Chloe watched him unwrap the foil paper covering a huge monstrosity of tender roast beef, moist turkey, honey-baked ham, spicy pastrami, wisps of prosciutto, lettuce leaves, tomato slices from the garden, four different cheeses (Swiss, Provolone, American, and Colby) and slathered in mayonnaise, brown spicy mustard, green peppers, and finally olives all on fresh baked bread. He gave it a slight wave, letting the multitude of aromas entice Chloe. She didn't disappoint him; she licked her lips. Nonchalantly, he said, "I do have a sammich - -"

"Yay!" Chloe interrupted. "I love the way your mom makes - -"

"For me," Clark finished his sentence. He smiled.

"You're not going to share?" Chloe watched him take a bite after he shook his head at her. "Don't tell me I have to forage for nuts and berries?" She tried a different track. She smiled and tilted her head, knowing he liked it. "I bet that tastes good." He nodded and took another bite. "It looks like there's enough for two families... can I please have some? A bite? A nibble? Not even a lick?" His head shook again. "Please?" He swallowed, shook his head and bit into the sandwich. "PLEASE?" He shook his head. "C'mon, Clark! Share!" She reached and he dodged her hand. "You're mean!"

Clark put up his free hand then reached into the ice chest and took out a sandwich for her, like his, but not as piled on with meats and extras. He swallowed his bite. "I wouldn't let you go hungry, baby. You know that."

"I know that, hunny," she smiled, happy that they could call each other cute names since Pete was still fishing. She ripped open the foil. Sammichy goodness awaited her. "But you're still mean. Making me almost beg."

"You did beg." He grinned. It was odd; she was usually the one doing all the demanding, to get his stories to the Torch in on time, to help her solve some mystery, to do things for her that would make their parents blush...like kiss her a certain way, and it was a good change of roles for him. He never tried to get the upper hand between them, but when he did, she played along. It was cute how she pleaded, and he liked it.

"Wipe that smile off your face, Clark...and that glop of mayonnaise from your chin." Chloe started to eat her sandwich and suffered with just a cold thermos of Pepsi to drink (it was her back-up source of caffeine, and she liked that Clark remembered that, and brought it for her, too). "I knew you had a sandwich for me."

The smile disappeared instantly. "Really?"

Chloe didn't mind saying snarky comments to her boyfriend, but she really didn't want to hurt him. Before they left on the non-magical misery tour, Clark's mother told Chloe that she packed sandwiches for them, a huge one for him, a smaller version of it for her, and drinks and some bags of chips. Now, the little blonde backtracked and tried not to burst her boyfriend's bubble. "No, babe...I didn't really know you had a sammich for me. I mean, I ...begged you. And you let me grovel. So you're double mean. Now gimme some of your chips. Thanks."

"Okay," Clark said through a smug smile, wider than the smirk on Chloe's face, "We'll have these sandwiches now, then we'll have Metro-Dogs tonight."

"You're running all the way to Metropolis?" She knew that they were an exclusive treat to the Metropolis Stadium. The nationally-known Metro-Dog was an all-beef foot-long with a sausage's girth in a toasted bun and topped off with a variety condiments with a marketing tag line of "the Northern-most in quality and Southern-most in flavor". She laughed when he shook his head and showed her packs of regular hot dogs and buns.

"I'll make my patented s'mores, too," he grinned, letting her see the pack of graham crackers and chocolate bars (2 Hershey's for him and Pete, a Clark bar for her), "and we'll have hot chocolate and marshmallows."

She didn't hide the disappointment on her face. She was never good at that, or hiding her smile. This time, it was a frown that hung on her jaw. "Oh."

"What's the matter, babe?" Clark worried what could have changed her mood. He saw rub her tummy, and thought maybe it was a girl thing that was bringing her down (actually she was eating too fast). He matched her frown.

"I'd do anything for a mug of coffee when we eat dinn - -"

"Done!"

She laughed at how quickly he offered and they conspired on how he was going to get that hot mug of coffee for her. They were giggling when Pete came over and sat down on the dirt. They quieted.

Pete looked at them and the scrumptious sandwiches in their hands. He couldn't wait to sink his teeth into what Clark's mother made for him. "Is there a sandwich for Me?"

"Um... No." Clark knew there wasn't any left, and looked back at Pete, sorry for him. "I can give you the rest of mine." He stuck out his sandwich, already three quarters gone. Clark always devoured these type of sammiches, several at a time, and not suffer indigestion or other maladies, much to Chloe's awe.

"Oh...usually your mom hooks me up." Pete's heart broke; even Mrs. Kent had abandoned him. "Did Mrs. Kent hook you up with the goods, Chloe?"

"Yeah...She made one for me," She said, trying not to smile. "Maybe Clark made it." She took small nibble, savoring the deliciousness. "No...this is too good. Yup. Mrs. Kent had to have made it." She took a big bite and spoke as she chewed. "For...me."

"Oh well...I have this to tide me over until tonight." He held up an apple butter and boysenberry jam on pumpernickel concoction. It was the only stuff to make a sandwich in the kitchen that he could find early in the morning. He smiled wanly.

"Yuck-kee," Chloe mumbled, loud enough for Clark, and tried not to grimace.

Pete leaned in and took a mournful bite, getting a mouthful of bread; his fingers squeezed the thick brown slices. The butter and the jam squirted out from the opposite end, nearly all of the filling plopping to the dirt at his already dirty sneakers. "Oh crap, man! That's just great."

"Um..that...sucks," Chloe said...and she started to laugh.

"Its not funny."

"Compared to me falling on falling on my butt, no, it's not hilarious. But it's still funny, " Chloe shot back and bit into her tasty sammich. She actually hummed a happy tune as she chewed the food and drank her Pepsi. Pete ate the rest of his monstrosity silently, seething, and Clark finished his meal quietly, too. It was the first time they ate together in complete silence.

The uncomfortable silence lasted between them lasted until dusk. Pete went back to fishing after somehow finishing his sandwich. Clark and Chloe went on a short walk in the woods, close to the campsite. It was easier to be in the trees than fight the wind that was now ripping through the open area. Clark wanted to talk about Pete but Chloe didn't, saying he can dish it out but not take it, talking about her line about his sandwich and Pete's sullen reaction to it. Clark pressed his lips together, wanting to say something, but she made sense; Pete could be overly sensitive after being critical himself. Clark remembered a time when both teens were six years old, and Pete was teasing him, calling him "Cornstalk" all day. Clark made him cry, however, after calling him "Niblet", focusing on his lack of height.

Instead, he went along with her idea: Chloe wanted to take some more pictures for her scrapbook, and they took pictures of each other leaning against the trees, and of a furry family of five raccoons they stumbled onto; it was a mother and four babies. They took pictures of them and they laughed at some squirrels scampering up and darting down a tree. Then they saw a couple of rabbits mating. Clark blushed, laughed uncomfortably and turned away, but Chloe snapped a few pictures. "It's funny," she smiled, answering Clark's odd look at her. "My dad will get a kick out of it. Besides...its a natural thing to do if you're in love." She blushed, and took his hand.

"Or in heat," He joked, and she laughed. But Chloe grinned a second or longer than usual up at Clark, and he didn't know if he should kiss her or chuckle or...what. Like her time of the month, sex was something that they didn't really talk about; they happy at "first base", maybe there was some "second base" action happening, but that was kissing and snuggling. Clothes stayed on, everything happened above the fabrics, and above the waist. _So far_. But the awkward moment for Clark ended when Chloe saw the raccoon babies wrestling. She took pictures them and the couple wandered around, taking pictures of flowers, themselves and animals.

Pete, however, was well past "second base" with Felice Chandler, and Erica Fox, too. And he thought of them while he fished solo. He sighed, bored, kinda sorta wishing he wasn't mad at his friends so he could hang out with them. He didn't like being alone, didn't like being mad. But he was stubborn, and if Clark and Chloe didn't see how they were acting, he wasn't going to change either. The long day came to an end, and the skies finally grew dark. But the mood between the teens was dark for hours.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Eleven**

"...Yeah, I know that it's really windy right now," Jonathan Kent answered back into the telephone receiver. Jonathan looked out the window and saw the topmost branches of the trees sway erratically. "But the tree trunks out there should act like a buffer for the kids, Gabe..."

"I'd hate to see that you call 'breezy' then, Jon," Gabe Sullivan said back to Clark's dad with a chuckle to take the edge off his own voice. Chloe's father had called the Kents several times during the day, checking in with them, letting them know that his dear, sweet daughter had forgot her cell phone and basically calling just to talk to someone. He missed Chloe, missed talking to her on the weekends when he had a chance to speak to her, missed their little conversations when she'd get home from school or from some reporting excursion, and worried about her being literally in the Great Unknown. "You think that Chl-, um...that _they_ are okay?"

"I think that they are having a blast," Jonathan said. "Camping trips are always a good time."

"Yeah," Gabe smiled. "Chloe and the boys must be having fun."

"This is _so_ not fun, guys," Chloe began, coming back to the tents after using the forest facilities yet again and sat gingerly on the log, avoiding knots and bumps, settling on the smoothest part of the trunk. She was cold, from being exposed to the elements (she was hating camping out more each bathroom trip); she rocked and shivered in the wind and the steep drops in temperature. "Hey...Do you guys stay warm by heating up the hot dogs and making s'mores with the light from lanterns? Just wondering here..."

"No, we don't use the lanterns," Clark laughed; he knew when she got hungry, his girlfriend got very fussy. "We make a huge campfire and - -"

"Derrrrr, Clark." She trembled. "Derr." She blew on her hands. It seemed to get even colder. Earlier, before her bathroom trip, she went into her tent and put on an extra shirt over the red one that she was already wearing. Now she also wore Clark's denim jacket over her flannel. She hated that she didn't bring a woolly scarf and that her hat kept blowing off her head. "Thats my subtle way of saying 'start a fire', okay?"

"Subtle? I thought you were being snarky." He grinned. It faded when he saw her glare at him.

"I'm being flash frozen out here!" She dug her hands into her pants pockets and shivered even more. "START A FIRE RIGHT NOW, CLARK KENT!"

Pete looked over at Chloe and saw that her teeth were chattering. It was cold, really cold, but he didn't want to let on that his butt was freezing, too. Still, he pointed at the center of their empty fire pit; he just finished putting the final big rock in place. "What's Clark going to start a fire with?"

"Hello? We're in a forest! There's some twigs all around us." She answered. Her eyes looked at Clark and pointed her trembly finger at him. "Burn them up."

"Burn them up?" Pete looked at her closely; maybe she was the first person ever to suffer from a brain-freeze without the ice cream. "How is he going to do that, Chloe? Magic?"

She groaned. Her body's condition and now the bad weather was getting to her; she was now losing track of who was around her and how she should talk around them. She said without thinking, "Heat vision."

Clark's jaw literally dropped when he heard Chloe speak. He looked at her, wide-eyed. She just shrugged her shoulders at her boyfriend. She was feeling too cold, too icky, and too hungry to lie about his powers right then.

"Heat vision?" Pete laughed. He turned to his pal, "I think the cold finally got to her. She's gone off the deep end."

"That's right, Pete." Chloe nodded. "I'm _delirious_. I need a hot cup of coffee, my blanket...walls...flooring...a ceiling...an actual bathroom!" The wind picked up and the two of the three teens shivered. "Clark Kent...you start something...somehow!"

"I know you don't know too much about camping, Chloe," Pete said, getting to his feet stiffly, his muscles giving into the cold. "But you do know that for a fire to happen he needs to get the wood first - -"

"You said 'wood', Bro! HA!"

Pete could do nothing other than just turn his shoulder inward from his friend's rushing body. Clark's fist was already flying, and with just a mere fraction of his strength, the knuckles struck Pete flush on that shoulder. The area went numb for a second or two. Then the nerves came alive again and fired off signals of pain that stung Pete hard. "Ahhhhhh Ow!"

Chloe's eyelids blinked a few times, processing what she just saw: Clark had just hit Pete. CLARK JUST HIT PETE. She watched her boyfriend rear his arm back again, fist clenched, and Pete was shaking the arm that was punched, wincing, hoping up and down on his sneakers in pain. Her mind raced. 'Holy Moley...They're fighting!' Then she screamed. "Stop it, Clark!" She jumped up waving her hands, trying to get between them, all in a panic. "You'll kill him!"

"The slug hurts like hell, but Clark won't kill me," Pete groaned, stepping away from Clark, glad that Chloe pushed away his friend. "It's just a sock on the arm, Chloe."

Clark laughed, but saw the look on the face of his startled girlfriend. He went over to her, caressed her face and they sat together on the log. "We have a game," Pete explained and wiggled his fingers, getting the feeling back. His other hand rubbed the sore deltoid muscle. "Man!...You got me good, you bit-...big goon."

"A game?" Chloe looked at Clark, nervously. He had scared her; she seen him do shocking feats of brute strength, but never really seen him punch anyone. Even if he did use a microcosm of his strength, just watching him throw a punch was startling. He put his arm around her and she leaned into him. "What kind of game?"

A small grin appeared on his face. "When ever we say something ..." Clark dipped his head.

"Say what?" Chloe smiled, the fear had gone away as he grinned. "I know you're blushing! Tell me..."

"Well, the game is..." Clark raised up a bit. He coughed, stalling. "We slug each other when...," his head dropped again, "whenever say anything that could be a metaphor for...sexual stuff."

"Oh...'woooood'. I get it." Chloe shook her head, thinking that her 'boys will be boys' and giggled, not because it was a witty game, but because Clark was giggling (he was thinking of 'wood' again). "Funny...Okay, I'm in."

"Really?" Pete groaned as fingers rubbed into the soreness. "You don't think it's rude?"

"You both heard my dad's jokes. He lives for poop jokes," Chloe reminded them, and the guys nodded. Clark got up and Pete traded spots with him, still rubbing at his shoulder. She looked at him. "You gunna help?"

"No," Pete said and moved his shoulder around in a circle. "He can do it - -"

Chloe grinned and slugged Pete's other shoulder. "Ow! Chloe! What the Hell?"

"You said 'do it'...that's sexual." She nodded, lips pressed together; smacking Pete felt good.

Pete smiled, for the first time really, all trip. "Not bad Miss Sullivan..."

"Thank you, thank you," she grinned and bent forward, bowing to his acclaim, and winced afterwards from the pressure on her lower abdomen.

Whatever tension there was between Pete and Chloe eased up as they watched Clark gather up some thick branches and some small broken logs; Clark pretended it was difficult carrying the heavier chunks. Chloe helped by pointing out what she thought were good pieces to Clark; Pete thought that that had best described their relationship: she told him what to do.

"Okay...who has the matches?" Clark dropped the would-be kindling into the the center of the rock pit. He looked over at his girl and his buddy. They both frowned, patted their pockets and showed him their hands, palms up, empty. Just like on every camping trip, something essential was forgotten.

"Clark...Just do your trick," Pete laughed.

Chloe flashed Clark a look: does Pete know? Clark gave back a look of uncertainty. Pete looked around, found two good-sized rocks and tossed them one after another to Clark. "Spark it up, Boy Scout-style."

"Oh! Like THAT!" Clark smiled at his best friend, taking a rock in each hand. Chloe looked relieved. "That I can do...," Clark nodded. Chloe laughed, knowing what her boyfriend was going to do; yes, he could be sneaky. She and Pete watched Clark strike the rocks together twice over some dry leaves that didn't fly out of the pit from the wind. Each time, a spark popped off the rocks, but no flames. On the third attempt, though, Clark stared hard at the logs, and just before he clicked the two rocks together, her shot a wad of his 'heat vision'. There was a huge whoosh of fire on the leaves and timber a second after the rocks ground together. He turned and smiled. His friend and his girl beamed at him; Pete's smile was big because he liked that rock-sparking trick and Chloe grinned, at how her boyfriend _really_ started the fire.

Then a blustery wind squelched the roaring flames to down to barely flickering. "Maybe we should make the hot dogs as quick as possible...and skip the s'mores until the wind slows down," he said sadly and Chloe and Pete groaned, bummed out. Clark kept the flames alive while Pete went to get the food. They sat, prepared the hot dogs, skewering the franks and roasting them as best they could (Chloe pouted that her frank was still cold and Clark quickly cooked it). They ate their fill, with Pete drinking a bottle of Moxie Brand soda, Clark drinking milk from a chilled Thermos, and in Chloe's case, Mrs. Kent's delicious coffee (Clark earlier sped away with her Thermos while Pete fished, going home and filling up the metal container with the coffee and returned to Chloe's side. He also stopped at the Squik-E-Mart, the local convenience store, and bought his girlfriend Midol. That cemented him a place in Chloe's heart forever). Afterwards, they huddled by the fire, Pete amazed that the fire was still going despite the wind, and they talked, about Pete's sporting feats, and about Chloe and Clark's news-stories, catching up, and to Chloe and Clark, it seemed like the distance between them and Pete was closing, but for Pete, the fact that there was so many _tidbits _that he didn't know about his friends lately, he felt so far away from them. Slowly, he let the conversation die out, and he grabbed his fishing pole again, leaving Clark and Chloe to themselves.

Tired of casting and catching nothing, Pete put his fishing pole away and went and looked around for some Kawatchee arrowheads to add to his collection. He kept his distance while Chloe and Clark look around again for signs of the legendary Shaggy Man. Pete found more than Chloe or Clark did, and he placed the arrowheads in a leather pouch that he had since he was five years old.

The sun continued its downward arc behind gray clouds that rolled in behind the windstorm, and finally disappeared behind the tree-line, and dusk turned quickly to the dark of night. "Hey Pete," Clark called out to his friend. He and Chloe stood a few yards away the tents. When she started to shiver, he concentrated hard and looked at her hands. She felt them warm up with his heat vision. She smiled and leaned into him. Clark looked back at his friend. There was just enough clearing in the clouds for them to peer up into the heavens. "Wanna look at the stars with us?"

Pete shook his head, and continued to clean the batch of arrowheads he found in the woods by lantern-light, alone in his world, sulking, rubbing the sharpened flints spotless.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

"No big loss," Chloe whispered, happy Pete didn't come over and spoil her time with Clark. She snuggled into Clark, who held her against him, shielding his girlfriend again from the wind and the cold night. She had her back against his washboard abs and chiseled chest, gladly letting his beefy arm wrap around her shoulders, settling his forearms along her collarbones, her hands and forearms covering the rest of her chest, warm under his flannel sleeves, and she listened to him talk about constellations, and looked to where he pointed into the black sky.

" - - And that is the final star that makes the Wolf's Head. Its not an actual constellation, but its a useful group of stars. Wanna hear something ...unusual?"

Chloe leaned her head back a little; she was resting her chin on his arm. She was so comfortable against him. After school, either at her house, in the den, or at his place, up in The Loft, she could wind down and fall asleep next to him, a little cat-nap. The wind was whipping around them too hard and it was a little too cold her liking on the late March night and those two factors kept her awake. "Of course, baby. You know I can't turn that down."

Clark smiled. "Ever since I could remember, I could pick out that star in the sky, like a beacon. I could even look up in the blue sky and wait until night, and I'd be looking right at it. I think it is...home."

"Oh wow," Chloe said softly, looking at that light in the sky. She squeezed his forearm. She knew that her boyfriend was more than human, that he was an alien being. "Home...where you're really from?"

"I think so." Clark smiled. He pressed her closer to him and she sighed happily. "You're the first person I told."

She swooned, so happy to be such a part of his life to be told that information first. She turned to him, and they looked at each other, grinning. "I'd kiss you Clark Kent, but I don't want Herr Pete going all Gestapo on us."

Clark smiled and they held hands as they walked back to the tents. Pete did smile when they arrived but frowned when Clark sat and Chloe sat on his thigh.

"It's so cold...can't I just sit on Clark's lap?" Chloe pouted, looking at her friend grimace. "It's just to share warmth! I promise not to to enjoy it too much!"

Pete chuckled and nodded. Chloe snuggled, but tried not to look like she or Clark loved the feeling. "It's so windy, man," Pete sighed, slipping on some gloves. "I wonder...are we going to have a tornado?"

"I figured to check the weather since it was my first camping trip and all...The National Weather Service had nothing scary like that on their website...I guess it's just weird Smallville weather," Chloe said, rocking just a bit on Clark's thigh. "With our luck, we'd get a freak ice storm or a deluge." The guys just looked at her when she laughed.

"The weather's NEVER been this bad before," Pete said with just enough bite that Chloe narrowed her eyes.

"I remember a few times there was some rain, Pete," Clark said to break them up, "and a heat wave or two. Right?" Pete nodded, leaving the topic alone.

"So what do you guys do at night? Or do I want to know?" Chloe teased, looking at her boyfriend.

"We usually tell dirty jokes and talk about girls," Pete said, tossing a small branch into the fire. "But we haven't had a chance so far."

"Go ahead," Chloe smiled, thinly, getting mad again. "Don't let me stop you."

"Well, Clark has to tell dirty jokes, too," Pete answered. "Otherwise, it's boring."

"Clark... tell a dirty... joke?" Chloe sputtered. "This Clark?" She pointed at the blushing lug holding her. "Never. He can't even THINK about words like 'titmouse' or 'pussy willow' without giggling."

"You know ...I've never told ...you a dirty joke before, Pete," Clark said between giggles, thinking about those very words. "You're always ... the one...telling...all of...them." Chloe had to elbow him in the chest to stop. He composed himself as she rubbed the hurt from her elbow.

"Well...maybe you might have started now," Pete started up, implying that Chloe's presence was stopping Clark, "and maybe even talk about another girl than Chloe."

Chloe laughed long and hearty at _that_ prospect.

"Maybe I wanna talk freely," Pete said. "Not worry about what I say, and not worry about who I talk about."

Chloe sighed. This jousting between them was getting old. "You can do that, Pete."

"I can't," Pete said, continuing his tirade. "I always talk about the girls...and stuff."

"Geeze Pete," Chloe said, rubbing her forehead; she was getting a headache and her tummy was starting to cramp despite the Midol she took earlier. "You're forgetting that you gave me that in-depth report on the girls' gymnastic team...and the cheerleading squad..and the girls' swim team." She looked at him, and he couldn't help but grin at the memories. "You used words like 'buxom', 'plump', 'chesty', and I quote: "Felice Chandler shakes her pom-poms like they were attached to her body," Chloe finished, leaning against Clark.

"It was a good line," Pete smiled. "Man ...how she thanked me..."

"See?" Clark said, his hand on Chloe's hip, and Chloe agreed.

"I haven't exactly censored your speech." She smiled. He looked at her. "It's like you're smiling for the first time, Pete."

"I've been mad."

"Duh," Chloe said with a grin. "Don't be mad, Petey...Have a good time, like Me and Clark."

"I wish I was," he said quietly.

"Am I that bad company?" she said in a voice as quiet.

"No," Pete admitted.

"Then...let's do something fun, okay?"

Pete looked at her and Clark as the wind ripped through their camp. "Let's play truth or dare."

"Okay, I'll play," Chloe smiled at him, happy to end the struggle between him and her. "Nothing sick or perverted," she added quickly.

"Sure," Pete agreed, and looked at her. "Chloe...truth or dare?"

"Truth!"

"Tell me and Clark an embarrassing true fact about yourself" Pete said as he tossed another small branch into the fire; how it was sustaining itself in this wind he'd never know.

Chloe shifted her bottom on Clark's thigh, fidgeting, thinking of something she could say that wasn't _too_ embarrassing. "I'm deathly afraid of clowns," she peeped. The guys looked at her for more information. She sighed. "Um... I had a really scary nightmare that a mean vicious clown killed me when I was working at the Daily Planet...I was eight years old when I dreamed about that..." She shuddered and hid her face into Clark's shoulder, thinking how a thin, chalky-skinned clown with a evil, maniacal laugh killed her and all the other reporters in the news-building. "Since that night...I don't like them."

"They are supposed to look harmless, but some look freaky," Pete admitted. "I'm with you on that one, Chlo. They suck."

"Yeah," she whispered.

"I didn't know that," Clark whispered, and she nodded.

"Keep it going," Pete prodded, not wanting to slow the game down. Chloe smiled, knowing that, not thinking Pete was trying to squash a moment between her and Clark.

"Clark," she looked her boyfriend straight in his eyes. "Truth," she said with a huge grin. "Or dare?" She frowned, tipping off Clark what word to pick.

"Dare!"

"Oh," Chloe said, amazed that he messed up. "Um...go with truth..."

"I want a dare." He grinned.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "That's hard to do, Clark."

"Why?"

"Cuz," she socked him on the shoulder. "You are hard to dare to do something...quit being a big dummy...you know what I mean."

"Ohhhh." Clark frowned with her; she could come up with the weird dare, and he could do the task, thanks to his alien body.

"Derrrr."

"I have one and you have to tell the truth," Pete breaking in between their banter. "If you didn't ask Chloe out...who'd you ask?" Chloe looked at Clark and her eyes let him know that he was on the spot.

"Um..." Clark looked at Pete, and Chloe flashed a look at him "If I HAVE to say a name...I'd say...Alicia."

"BAKER? That Alicia?" Chloe hopped off Clark's thigh, her body hot now with jealousy. She expected to hear Lana Lang's name; she knew that Clark had a crush on her...but didn't know Clark thought of other girls.

"Clark's turn...," Pete said blithely. He didn't plan on making them argue, but he wasn't going to stop them now. In his head, he knew that he and Clark talked all the girls...before Chloe came to town.

"No, it's NOT," Chloe snapped. She set her cold hands on her hips, and gave an even colder look at Clark. "He's not done. He has to explain. Why Alicia Baker, Clark?"

"Hey," Clark leaned back. "I don't have to explain." Her eyes narrowed. "I just had to name someone that was a girl..." he looked at Pete and hoped that his friend didn't add any fuel to Chloe's inferno.

"That works for me too," Pete said, and watched Chloe sit beside Clark. They all knew that she wasn't going to let Clark off easy. "Let's tell an embarrassing fact about each other." Before Clark or Chloe could stop him, Pete started, "When he was younger, Clark used to eat the yellow roses in his mom's garden."

"Dude!" Clark wished he could punch Pete again.

"It's just a fact." Pete smiled. "I'd come over with my mom, and we'd used to sneak into the garden, and instead of plucking some fruit off the vine and eat it like I did, he'd have a mouth full of petals."

While Clark glared, Chloe giggled, and his face softened. She smiled at her boyfriend. "Do you have a fact about me or Pete?"

"Pete slept over one time and wet his sleeping bag," Clark said quickly, wanting to put his friend on the spot like he had done to him, twice.

"Oh my god, dude!" Pete blurted out. "You suck!"

"You started it," Clark shot back.

Chloe jumped in. "Okay...and about me, Clark?"

"You dog ear your books and chew up your pencils," Clark said. It wasn't her most annoying trait, but he figured he was already in trouble of saying Alicia's name, so he played it safe.

"My turn!" Chloe smiled and took a deep breath while the guys nodded, giving her the 'okay' to continue. "Clark is way too oblivious at times and Pete is way too quick tempered."

"I think you two guys are way too close," Pete said right after she spoke, the cold air more chilly suddenly. Clark and Chloe looked at him, then at each other.

"We're a couple," Clark said before Chloe could, and she adore him for that.

"But you're not married to her," Pete countered.

"So?" Chloe asked.

"Whats your point, Pete?" Clark wasn't that oblivious; he knew that his friend was tossing jabs at Chloe all day.

"You two have no time for anyone," Pete admitted, and tossed another branch, a bigger one this time, into the fire. "For me." It crunched the blackened logs below it and caught aflame. The embers floated and died out in the cold sky. Both Chloe and Clark frowned. "It's true."

"I was a part of the gang," Pete continued, poking at the fire, not looking at his friends. "We used to hang out so much..."

"You still part of our gang," Clark said, and wondered why now it was all coming to a head. He waved his arm. "We do hang out, man."

"Pete," Chloe said, sad to see her friend like this, "we're your friends...and you have lots of other friends, too."

"So Chloe?" Pete tossed the branch aside. "I still make time for you two guys." He stood up, kicked over one of the large rocks that guarded the pit, and turned away from them. He did have a quick temper.

"Hey man," Clark said, holding Chloe's hand, "We don't say anything when you date Erica or Felice or whomever."

"Or if you're all chummy with Whitney now," Chloe added. Whitney acted like a bully towards her and her boyfriend, at least until the Carnival.

"You're chums with Lana now," Pete shot back.

"She doesn't pick on me or Clark like Whitney did," Chloe said. Her head dropped. "Or like you now."

"Don't turn this back on me, Chloe," Pete had the audacity to say. Since the camping trip was announced he had been picking at her, and he was mad that he was called out on it. "Just don't, okay?"

"Pete!" Clark stood up and towered of his girlfriend and his friend. "Don't yell at her."

"Or what Clark?" Pete stepped closer. His heart was racing. Clark was bigger, stronger, taller, you name it, but Pete had never seen him in a fist-fight before and Pete had been in a few scrapes of his own. "Both you guys have been ditching me."

"Boys." Chloe's voice quivered. She was scared. "You're friends. We're all friends." She looked at Clark. "You're scaring me."

A silence, like the temperature, dropped over the trio in the woods, and the chill that they created could freeze up the stream.

"Where were you two yesterday?" Pete asked, his breath visible in the cold.

"Court." Clark said simply and Chloe squeezed his hand.

"And after that?" Pete didn't move from where he stood.

"We had dinner at..." Chloe's voice trailed off.

"Where?" Pete's voice rose, just like his heart rate again. "Not at Clark's...and you can't cook," he pointed at the blonde.

"We were at Lex's mansion," Clark said quietly, and his head dipped; Lex and Pete hated each other, and Clark liked them both. Chloe was wary of the bald millionaire, and tolerated him for Clark's sake.

"Thanks," Pete spat into the cold. "My point proved! I waited for you two guys and...and...you guys suck!" Before Chloe or even Clark do do anything, Pete grabbed his lantern and ran into the woods, into the dark, alone.


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

"Hmm...that didn't go very well, did it?" Clark said simply and looked at his girlfriend who nodded in stunned agreement. Never in his life had Clark seen his friend so furious at him, not even when he accidentally broke some Pete's toys when they were kids, like shattering his pink Power Ranger action figure, when he innocently told some their classmates at Ezra Jebadiah Obadiah Small Elementary that Pete owned several Tamagotchi digital pet toys and Pete was made fun of by the bullies at lunchtime, or even when he had lost Pete's Metropolis Sharks football team Starter jacket on the school bus a few weeks after Christmas and maybe the worst, spilling some orange juice on a few of his Warrior Angel comics (that Pete had to replace years later at more than ten dollars an issue). Still, after all that, he had never seen the fury that was on his friend's face, or heard the word that spewed from his mouth.

Neither had Chloe. While she didn't know him as long as Clark, to her Pete was usually a cheerful guy, cool to know, always hooking her up with compact discs jam-packed with musical goodness, always exuding with what she thought was 'Metropolis Style' despite being living in rural Smallville. Still, it felt to her that lately that his temper was short, even with her and Clark. She knew that Pete pretty much hated Lex Luthor, and that the millionaire disliked him, so she knew that Clark tried keep his two friends separate. She and Clark hung out with their diminutive buddy when they could, but gave Pete space when he needed it, either for his athletic endeavors or when he was working his 'mack' on the girls. Chloe was confused; even Pete wanted them together, back in eighth grade, and she didn't think that she was monopolizing ALL of Clark's time. She looked at the spot where Pete disappeared into the forest. "Are you going to go after him?"

"No. Not this time," Clark said, looking there too; he didn't bother to use his x-ray vision. Chloe was surprised with the answer. "Pete will come back when he lets that anger burn out." She nodded in agreement. "But we'll have to talk some more when he does get back."

"I...I didn't do anything wrong coming along on this trip, did I, Clark?" Her voice quivered. "I mean...was this is some sort of 'He-Man, Boys Only, No Girl Named Chloe Sullivan Allowed' thing?...Why did you put me through this?"

"I wanted you here, with me, and to hang with Pete," Clark said earnestly, looking into her green eyes, his hand caressing her cheek. "We all had been through a lot together lately, and I thought...I could tell Pete about my powers and we three could be closer...but it just didn't work out that way."

"Oh hunny..." Chloe sighed and hugged her boyfriend. "I hope Pete comes back soon. He's my best friend too."

"He's more than my best friend," Clark said into the wind, hoping that Pete could hear his words. "Pete's my brother."

They stood together, in the gusts that was ripping around them, in the cold that was hardening the dirt and already frosting the dew on the grass at their boots, looking at where Pete ran into the woods. "Let's get you by the fire," Clark said.

"Yeah," She said, and settled once more on the log. "All I need is to get frost-bite on my butt," she said to Clark, with a small smile. She shivered. "You know what, Clark? This night can't get any worse."

However, Smallville was the kind of place where things did get worse. And, of all the citizens of the town, Chloe Sullivan should have known better than to say what she did to Clark; as she looked up to him as he handed her the Thermos that her used his powers to warm up the coffee inside it, a small droplet of rain splattered right on her eyeball. "OW! MY EYE!" she screamed, and dropped the Thermos, her precious coffee spilling out. Clark quickly gathered up the metal canister and winced at her, watching the way she rubbed the heck out of her eye.

"Oh no," Chloe whispered as that singlet droplet of water was followed by more raindrops, much larger than the one that splatted on her eye, and they fell around her and Clark, falling erratically. A small hopeful smile started on her lips when it seemed like the drizzle stopped. Then, a whoosh of wind slammed through the camp site and the deluge that she joked about earlier had burst from the sky.

Pete Ross ran, farther and farther into the forest, trying to get away from Clark and Chloe, going up slopes and down hills, off the paths he knew, dodging the bushes and slipping past the tree trunks like they were oncoming linebackers that were going to tackle him when they popped in front of his lantern's light, going as far as his legs and anger could take him. It was pretty far; he had lost himself in the woods. He was tired, cold, sad, and angry at his friends, and at himself. Finally, he started to slow down, no longer running on pure emotion. His legs felt rubbery, his chest burned, and he tried to be careful, but his shoe caught onto what felt like a tree root, and he tripped, going headlong into the wide barrel of the tree in front of him. He barely had time to put his hands up, to protect his face from the tree's jagged bark, hoping that he wouldn't shatter his lantern on impact.

"Oh crap!"

But Pete didn't collide into one of the towering trees that surrounded him. He bounced off something that was softer than lumber, and more hairy, too. Pete lifted his head, and his nose caught a whiff of a stench that almost make him retch. Pete scrambled to his knees, his mouth open. It wasn't some kind of mossy tree. It was much, much worse.

It was The Shaggy Man, a childhood legend to Pete no more; it was taller than Pete could have imagined, well over nine feet tall and as wide as a Redwood tree trunk, with matted, soiled hairs all shaggy down its body. Pete shined the lantern at it and he could make out no musculature on the creature's face or body; it seemed to him to be a massive mound of hair. Pete looked higher, and saw The Shaggy Man's eyes, yellow orbs with a reddish rim glowing in the dark, behind strands of hair. Pete shivered, scared, and breathed through his mouth so he didn't have to breathe in the creature's awful smell.

But when Pete tried to rise to his feet, the creature swung its bushy arm. Despite the hairy bulk, the swing was fast, but Pete, thanks to his athletic ability and good, old fashioned fear, was faster. He ducked under the shaggy limb and rolled out of the way. The hulking mass of hair trudged forward, set on beating Pete, striking out wildly, its hairy fists smashing silently somehow against the dirt. When it moved, it trampled over twigs and undergrowth, but the movements didn't cause any sound; The Shaggy Man survived in isolation by a special sound-dampening ability to go with its amazing strength. The downside was it's stinky smell, worse than wet dogs.

Pete couldn't believe his luck: the creature's long hair brushed over its eyes and obstructed more of it's view of Pete, who was still dodging the blows. The teen scrambled backward, scooting on his hands and feet. The Shaggy Man slowed down for a moment, to shake itself, whipping its hairy coat, flicking off the rain, as well as chunks of dirt and mud, twigs and bits of grubs and berries. Ominously, pieces of rotted meat flew off the shaggy pelt. But the creature continued to swing away, slamming its fists into the mud, paying no mind to the now pouring rainstorm or the mud that was sliding down the rise between the trees. He kept backing Pete up, through the puddles and the rain-filled holes, until he had the teen against a small tree. Everything was happening too fast; Pete was too scared to even scream.

The beast's fist missed Pete yet again and pounded into rain-softened ground. At first, there was an odd hum, followed by a creaking, and finally the earth itself shook under the power of the punch. The muddy ground cracked open, and before Pete could react, the weakened earth collapsed in on itself. It took Pete, the little tree and most of was on the surface around him down into a pit below.

The Shaggy Man toppled backwards and stared at the opening in the ground. The creature pushed on the ground for stability, moving away as more pieces of earth fell into the chasm, and when the muddy ground felt firm, it peered over the edge. The hairy beast saw no movement other than the rainwater that was now cascading over the sides and heard no sound other than the rain that continuing to pour down. The Shaggy Man didn't need to defend its privacy, its home anymore. It got up silently. The creature lumbered away from the sinkhole, and the beast's massive shaggy form had disappeared into the forest again.

"Even for Smallville, this rain is freakin' crazy," Chloe yelped, her head sticking out of her tent's flaps. The campsite was quickly becoming a quagmire: the rain starting to soak the ground, making the clearing muddy. Chloe tried to watch Clark while he use his super-speed to make a barricade of dead logs to slow down the campsite's flooding. "Don't you think Pete's going to notice when he comes back that there's a dam around the tents? I didn't see any beavers around here," she shouted to the blurry vision in the rain.

"Dang it." Clark stopped and skidded on the mud. Chloe giggled, and waited for him to fall on his butt. But he didn't, and he gave her a sly smile. The rainstorm and the gusting winds didn't bother him at all; in fact, it was rather invigorating to his alien physiology. But he looked at his girlfriend, her face sopping wet, her hair a mess, her teeth chattering. He knew she was freezing. He walked to her. "We can't stay here anymore, not in this rain."

"Yay!" Chloe cheered. "Let's get packed up and get the heck out of here!" When the rain really started to come down, she scrambled into her tent and she yelled over to Clark that there was a leak or something, and rain was dripping inside. She was tired being a tough girl, and wanted the warmth and comforts of her home. Camping was one of Clark's things, she decided, that was not for her. By the time she got her a couple of things packed (actually, crammed in her knapsack), Clark had already got his tent and Pete's tent dismantled, folded, and stored in their bags, all their gear packed up and the logs and fire pit scattered. Chloe finished jamming all that she had in her bags and crawled out of her tent, one hand holding her lantern that she took on a bathroom excursion and left in her tent, and just when she cleared away from the tent, it collapsed in a heap. "Whoa!"

"Pete didn't set it up properly," Clark realized, holding his green lantern for light (not that he needed it). He saw that the tie-downs were loose, the stakes had been barely in the ground. "I'm surprised it stayed up for so long in this wind."

"Pete's a Jerkwheat!" Chloe frowned, wiping at the rain splattering on her face and the mud off the knees of her pants. They looked on as the rain and mud flood into the tent. Chloe sighed sadly; she didn't like camping but she did like shopping for it, and other things for the trip. "I can't believe him!"

"It's better that it collapsed now than in the middle of the night," Clark said, and in a blink or two, he had the tent was in a bag. His eyes scanned around for more things to pack away. She caught his eye, smiling at him. Clark looked a her strangely.

"Of course, if the tent collapsed in the middle of the night," Chloe grinned and huddled closer to her boyfriend, "none of our parents could have blamed poor little me if I wanted a warm safe place to sleep through the night on her first camping trip... in a properly assembled tent...like yours." She shivered in the cold, but gave Clark a smoldering look.

"Only you can think of something like that in weather like this," he laughed, running his hand through his wet hair, and doing that made him look even hotter to his girlfriend. He switched the lantern to his other hand and leaned into her. She thought he was going to kiss her finally on this trip, but pulled the zipper tab higher on her jacket.

"You're a good boy," she blushed at her gallant boyfriend, and re-adjusted her hat that really wasn't helping keeping her hair dry. Rain had started to sting her skin in the wind gusts. "You wouldn't have done any naughty stuff in the tent."

"I know." He tied her backpack onto Pete's pack and swung them over his back, and grabbed his own stuff. Any other person would have collapsed under the weight, but Clark stood up, relaxed. "You, on the other hand..."

"Hey!" She socked him oh his shoulder. Then she thought about snuggling and sleeping bags and other warm thoughts. She laughed. "Well...you're right." Then a strong wind ripped through the campsite and made Chloe take a few backward steps, struggling against it. She made a face. "Okay... no more joking. We have to go."

"We can't yet," Clark said, looking at the forest again, dropping the waterproof packs into the mud. He turned to her, holding her hand so she didn't tumble away in the wind and rain.

"We have to get Pete," Chloe said, looking into his eyes. They hurried against the pouring rain, their green lanterns held high, into the forest to search for their friend.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

"Oh man...My neck...My back...My neck AND My back," Pete moaned, his voice raspy as he finally regained consciousness. He didn't know for how long he that had been passed out. He rolled in the mud, sitting up slowly, his hands rubbing the painful areas on his body. "Damn," he whispered roughly; he craned neck and shielded his eyes from the torrential rain falling on him. The hole above him was at least 35 feet off the ground or more. Thankfully, the earth that he had been cowering on had softened the landing somewhat; a branch of the tree that he was up against when the sinkhole happened did jab into his neck, however, and made hard for Pete to speak, let alone shout. Pete got up, wiped off the mud from the back of his pants and the sleeves of his jacket, still looking up at the hole, still amazed at his luck: He got away from The Shaggy Man...but was now trapped in an abyss. "I thought only Chloe got in this type of jam." His shoes sunk deeper into the mud on the ground. "Damn," he said again. The pit was flooding.

Instead of wanting to be far away from his friends as possible, Pete desperately wanted to be with them again. He hobbled around and felt around for his lantern in the dark, and groaned when he felt the broken pieces. Desperately, he grabbed some mud and started to toss handfuls out of the hole, hoping to get their attention. "Find me guys," he whispered. "I know that you can, Clark."

Clark and Chloe moved through the woods as easily as Pete did before, thanks to Clark's powers. He bypassed any thickets that Chloe herself could not pass or he when he felt the affects of the meteor rocks somewhere in the woods. Clark scanned the woods, not worrying about the rain and cold, but Chloe was still feeling the effects of the nasty weather; the trees did act like a buffer to the wind somewhat, but the cold was penetrating her wet clothing and chilling her skin, the raindrops were still pouring heavily from above, soaking her even more and making the ground all muddy, and hard for her to walk in; her boots slogged with every step. Yet, despite all the crap that Pete put her through, wherever Clark scanned and moved towards, Chloe followed, just as interested in finding her friend, too. She was happy that the Midol that she took was working overtime in her system.

"You'll hate this, Clark said, turning to his girlfriend, "but I think we need to cover more area." He pointed at two tracks in the bush: one path was created by Kawatchee years ago and still used by hikers in the woods and another that was made by Pete and Clark over the years and The Shaggy Man was on earlier; Clark didn't smell anything odd; the rainstorm and wind obliterated the foul scent of the beast. "That one seems to go down that way and this one goes up that slope..."

"You mean..." Chloe sputtered, looking at the rain water streaming down the hill, "you mean... split up?" She swung her lantern around, into the Cottonwoods. "Are there meteor rocks around here messing with your brain, Kent? Are you nuts?"

"Nothing will happen to you," he reassured between a chuckle, wiping the wetness from her face. "You know, Chloe, that I always come running if you say my name."

There was no need for Clark to remind her; at the carnival the previous Fall, she screamed out his name when she was abducted by the meteor rock mutated beast, Beppo the Missing Link. With superhuman speed, he zipped to her side, fought the creature to its death, and saved her life. "You're never too far from me."

Chloe flashed a huge, toothy smile when she heard him say that; she was always surprised when he said something or did something romantic for her. Clark, for all his powers and abilities, one thing her boyfriend wasn't exactly blessed with was the gift of romance: while his gestures were sweet and genuine, not smooth and practiced like Pete's approach with the girls at Smallville High, he was still shy about making them. Her wistful gaze at Clark ended when droplets flicked hard against her cheeks. She winced. That brought her back to Earth. "But Clark," she realized, rubbing the ache from her cheek, "if I _have_ to yell for you that means _something_ bad is happening to me."

"Yeah...that's true," Clark nodded in sad agreement; he didn't think of that. "But what if something already happened to Pete? We're taking up valuable time!" He's voice was frantic, full of worry. He felt like a mustang in the stables, all pent up with energy and nowhere to run.

"I know...I'll do it, baby," she said softly, reaching out and touching the front of his rain-soaked jacket. Chloe looked at her boyfriend, watched his eyes penetrate the timber with his super-vision, and knew this would be his reaction if she were the one missing, and knew that he'd rally his friends to look for her. In quiet moments in the Loft up in his barn or in the den at her house, she'd joke to him that he was her own personal search and rescue unit, but sometimes, like now, she'd forget that her boyfriend was also Smallville's life-saver. "Just letting you know to keep a look out for my light and listen for my voice ...okay?"

"Of course," he said with a grateful smile. He surprised her with a kiss, flush on the lips that lingered long after he stepped away from her. "I'll do more than that. I'll be right with you in a way." When she tilted her head quizzically, he added, "I can hear your heart beat a mile a way...literally."

With that, Chloe carefully trudged up the muddy hill, brazen with that knowledge that Clark was attuned with her every step. She called out Pete's name when she tentatively peered around tree trunks and at where she shined the lantern; she found nothing but the shiny eyes of raccoons. Every once and a while, she muttered Pete was a jerkwheat under her breath, especially when she looked back and saw the light from Clark's lantern was farther away and the woods seemed creepier with each muddy boot step.

Annoyed that he couldn't use his super speed (because of the awful footing), Clark navigated slowly down the hill, calling out Pete's name, too. His voice was loud, but not too loud, nothing that Pete would find too suspicious; if Clark wanted to, he guessed that he could shout Pete's name and be heard in Metropolis or even over in Fawcett City. He yelled out again, wishing he could all his powers. He wanted to find his friend fast, and get both Pete and Chloe out of the crazy weather

"Pete...Pete, where are you, man?" Clark shouted. Then he groaned, and clutched his head before he leaned against a tree. 'Oh no! There must be some meteor rock somewhere,' he thought, scanning the ground for any of the tale-tell green rocks that may have washed up on ground or that were embedded in the trees close by. He felt a little dizzy and stomach felt like it was being wrung out like a wet towel. He stumbled away from the area, intent on finding his friend and not succumbing to the rocks. His body seemed to snap upright when he was away from the meteor rocks, where ever they were, and he still called out for Pete, eyes straining for a glimpse for his lost friend. Clark also watched for the glow of Chloe's lantern, looked at it swinging this way and that. He followed her make her own way up the slope, and he had to laugh when he heard her call Pete a jerk.

Then he smelled it before even he could see it move silently in front of him.

It was The Shaggy Man.

Instead of being filled with fear like he might have been when he was younger, Clark looked at the beast and said, "Wow!" The teen's eyes looked at the creature with amazement; it was what he had hoped the legend would really be, and more. Unfortunately, that 'more' turned out to be the smell; Clark actually needed to hold his breath, as the rain increased the already substantial stench of the creature.

The Shaggy Man looked at Clark oddly; the thing in front of him didn't cower in fear, but just stood there. But there was territory to defend. The creature moved as quickly as it could at Clark. The teen, still geeking out that he was looking at the legendary creature, let the beast get close and land the first punch. That was all that Clark needed...to lose track of Chloe.

"Pete? Pete?" Chloe repeated, anxiously listening for a yell or a scream back, or worse, as she looked on the ground where she aimed her lantern's light, her friend's body while she made her way through the path. 'No, don't think like that,' she thought, while she guarded her eyes from the strength of the wind and the rain drops that made their way between the branches. She trekked in the mud, her thighs straining and cold. Her boot squished, and she almost slipped. 'Thats a heck of a lot of mud', she frowned. She caught a whiff and hoped that she didn't trample over where she went to the bathroom. "Damn it!" She frowned; it was one of her spots. "Pete! When I find you, you're gonna by me some polish for my boots!" She scraped her boot on gnarled tree root and continued the march up the slope.

As she inspected a shape on her left hand side that she thought was Pete (it turned out to be a small pile of rocks), she heard a something make a plopping sound faintly on her other side. She spotted the beam in that area and bravely walked into the thicket where she thought she heard it. "Pete? Is that you?" She kept hearing the faint plopping, louder as she moved towards it. She pushed down some brush and stepped into a clearing. "Hello? Pete?...And not some hopped-up-on-meteor-rocks killer squirrel?"

Something mushy passed over her head and plopped against a tree behind her. "What the freak?"

Then a handful of mud splattered on her face, the dirty slop getting into her eyes and up her nose. Then another glop struck her. She spun and reeled at mucky impacts, in shock. Her usually trusty Doc Martens boots had lost their traction. She twirled and she slipped and landed awkwardly, the breath knocked out of her. Rather than finding the sinkhole, she rolled into it.

"Chloe!" Pete rasped, all set to toss up another handful of mud. He dropped it and readied himself to try and catch his friend. Instead, he broke her fall with his face as her boots crashing into his forehead. They laid in the mud, passed out.

Clark glared at The Shaggy Man, circling it, mad that it struck him, upset at himself for letting the creature do that in the first place. Then he noticed something other than the hairy creature in front of him: he had looked and he didn't see the light from Chloe's lantern anymore. He knew something had to have happened to her, even if she didn't scream. "I don't have time for you," Clark said simply, rushed at the beast, and shoved The Shaggy Man with all of his strength. The Shaggy Man turned into a shaggy hairball flying between the trees, over the brush. Clark didn't bother to see The Shaggy Man smash into the mud, skid, collide into a tree and wobble away. Clark zipped up the slope; he had a girlfriend and a brother to find.

"Aww crap," Chloe moaned, rolling onto her side. Her eyelids opened as her fingers sank into the mush. "Not crap...Just mud...Still...Blah," she whimpered pitifully; it was one thing to be soaking wet and cold and starting her time of the month, another to be completely muddy too on top of all that, and Chloe was like that now, caked in the dirty slime from the soles of her boots to the tips of her matted down with gunk hair. She sat up gingerly, hurting from the rough landing; after her boots collided with Pete's cranium, she flipped in the air and rammed her 'Chloevage' first into the soggy ground, bounced after impact and came to a rest on her back, unconscious. Chloe's body had been taking a lot of punishment since moving to Smallville, and incredibly, the drop and impact were among her least traumatic.

She sat in the mud, her mind slowly doing a checklist of her body parts and how they felt. She figured that her pains weren't anything that the Vicodin that she already had at home for a previous batch of injures couldn't suppress. Her lantern was still working and she smiled. In its glow, she saw her friend crumpled by her feet, and, mud be damned, she crawled to him "Oh my god! Pete!" She took a sigh of relief when his hand moved. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," Pete groaned, eyes fluttering at the sound of her voice. He, on the other hand, hadn't suffered any major injuries when he helped Clark fight "meteor freaks", just a few sprains and bruises that he could hide from his parents. Falling into the sinkhole and stopping Chloe's drop with his head were the worst things to happen to him yet. "Nothing feels broken. I just feel all jacked up." He rubbed the imprint of her boots on his skull. "Thank God you don't play football, Chloe. That was some hit."

"I'm all in one piece," she smiled when he asked how she felt, "just muddy...What the freak happened? One second, I'm looking for your butt. Then I'm in this trap."

"It was my fault." Pete explained what he did, tossing the mud out of the hole to get her or Clark's attention. "I guess it worked."

"That was a good pretty idea," Chloe nodded, "until I got nailed in the face."

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice still raspy, but she could hear the sincerity that rumbled from him. "That wasn't part of the plan...none of this was planned," he said, waving his hand around, gesturing at the mud, the rain that still showered them, the hole that they were stuck in. "I'm especially sorry for how I treated you."

Chloe smiled at Pete's grin, and they hugged, no longer caring about the bickering and fighting between them before or if that they were dirty as pigs in mud. They held each other tight. "I'm so glad to see you," she said when Pete let her go.

"I'm glad to see you, too," he smiled, and wiped some mud from her forehead. "Even if you look like a mess."

"Jerkwheat," she said, but this time she said it as an endearment; she plucked some twigs that was caught in his curly hair. They got up to their feet. Both teens were on shaky legs from the collision, so they leaned on each other.

"I know I was a jerk," Pete admitted (Chloe corrected him by saying "Jerkwheat" but he continued on with his apology). "I was just mad...cuz...the camping trip was just Clark and my special thing, you know?" Chloe chuckled. "Nothing weird," he said looking at her expression. He continued. "When everyone, and I mean everyone, Chloe, in grade school thought that he was a total spazz, a nerd, and a real Melvin, I knew he was...a great guy." He took a breath and rubbed his throat. "It's just now there's you and Lex...and just I feel like the third wheel...or even the forth wheel." He sighed. "And I was there first."

"Pete, you're my best friend," Chloe whispered, just now fully grasping the hurt, "not Lana...and Clark...he cares for you like a brother."

"I know...and he's my brother, too." He stood up prouder. "Hey, even my brothers sometimes fight."

Pete and Chloe hugged again, laughing despite their aches and pains, both shivering, feeling the cold and rain. They looked up, shielding their eyes from the elements coming down hard on them, listening to the wind that whistled. She promised, "Clark will be here soon...CLARK! CLARK!"

"Your hero worship is at full blast again," Pete laughed, hurting his throat, listening to her shout out his name.

"But he will, Pete..."

"I know he will, Chloe." He looked up at the opening, expectantly. "I know...that's his gift."

Clark heard his girlfriend's voice, clear despite the rainstorm and howling wind. He darted with superhuman speed, slamming through the brush, knocking down whatever that got in his way, his boots crushing logs and undergrowth. By the second shout out of his name, Clark located the hole, his x-ray powers highlighting the open pit in the dark, seeing two figures and a light source. He slowed down and walked carefully, making sure he didn't cause another sinkhole to happen, and crush his girlfriend and buddy that his super-vision let him to see down below. He peered down into the pit, shining his green lantern by his face. "Oh hey guys...you both okay?"

"YES!" Chloe clapped her hands and hugged Pete. "It's Clark!" It was one of the few times she could really enjoy being rescued by her boyfriend; usually she was too thrashed or unconscious. Pete just smiled up at Clark and waved, his throat hurting too much to yell up to him. Chloe shouted, "Yes! We're okay, I guess! Just muddy as heck!"

"I'll have to get rope to pull you guys up," Clark lied. If it were just Chloe in the hole, he'd easily use his powers, since she now knew that he possessed them. Or if Pete were knocked out. Now, however, with Pete conscious and grinning up at him, Clark fell back on his old habit of fibbing to his best friend to cover his alien abilities. "I'll go back to camp!"

"No way!" Pete yelled out, wincing in pain. "Just jump down, man!"

"You're being silly, Pete," Clark chuckled nervously. He looked down, and saw Pete fold his arms over his chest, glaring up at him. "That's like a 40 foot drop!"

"That's crazy talk!" Chloe looked at Pete and grabbed his shoulders. "You have a concussion...I know the symptoms...I've had a lot of them since moving here." She grinned like a dopey child, letting some drool spill to make her point. "I still have one from last time...hee."

Pete shrugged away from Chloe's hands and looked up. "Clark! We're hurting, cold, wet, and covered in mud! Get us out of here! Just use your damn powers!

Clark stared into the hole, Pete's voice hitting him harder than he'd ever been hit in his entire life. Chloe gasped. Somewhere, a wolf howled balefully as the rainstorm continued to rage on. Finally Clark spoke.

_"Pete...You know?"_


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

"Of course I KNOW, Clark!" Pete's voice rumbled inside the hole, reverberating again the walls. "How could I not? You're MY best friend!" Above them Clark's knees buckled at his friend's declaration. In the pit, Chloe's legs wobbled, too, but she tried to look calm while her friend rubbed his aching throat. Pete shot her a look, too. "And I know that you know his secret, too."

"What?" Chloe piped up; she made a promise to Clark to keep the fact that he was special, and she meant it. She gave Pete her best 'I-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about-face', but, by the serious look on his face, she was failing miserably. "I'm not hiding anything!"

"Oh God Chloe!" Pete laughed bitterly. "You're awesome at exposing cover-ups...but you suck at being sneaky! How many times did you almost spill his secret today?" She dipped her head as she stepped away from him, silently guilty. He looked back up. "Now get your butt down here, Clark!"

"Chloe's right...you hurt your head...you're delirious," Clark said, "I..."

He hesitated; it was so hard to continue to lie to his best friend. Years of carefully constructed tactics, years of fibbing and misleading everyone by Clark (and his mother and father), were emotionally draining on super-powered young man. He relished that he no longer had to lie to Chloe; after she moved from Metropolis to Smallville in the eighth grade, he did hide the truth from her, afraid she'd write a newspaper article for the local paper about him, exposing him. When she learned of his powers, his abilities, and their other-worldly origins, she took it all in stride, ecstatic that he had them, just as she was pleased to be his girlfriend. Clark wanted to tell the truth to Pete but he was so used to hiding the truth. "I..."

"Clark." Pete's voice was no longer frantic or loud. He spoke almost calmly, as much as his hurt throat let had him. He looked up expectantly, like he knew, despite the wind whipping above him making a howling sound, that Clark could hear his voice. "I know your secret...I know that..."

"That I'm a 'meteor freak', Pete?" Clark yelled down; he hated that term, one that Chloe had used to describe the people that were affected by the odd green rocks, fragmented pieces of the meteors that struck the town in 1989, rocks that were Clark's weakness. Just the thought of his best friend saying it made him mad.

"You're not," Pete said, his face glistening in the rain, looking up at his friend holding a lantern. He swallowed and took a breath. "You're...from another planet."

Clark stood up. He knew that he could say that Pete was crazy, that he'd be right back, leave them both in the muddy fissure, run back to the camp in seconds, get some rope, run back, waste time, pretending that it took him minutes to go and come back and use the rope to get Pete and Chloe out of the hole. His life was ruled by that subterfuge, that deception.

He could do that. Or...

_Clark jumped into the pit._

"Look, up there in the sky!" Chloe gasped and pointed at Clark, his body outlined in the glow of the the lantern in Clark's hand as he dropped into the hole. Like she always had, she couldn't keep her eyes off of him.

And as for Pete, while he stood by Chloe, he watched Clark silently, thinking back to that day when they were ten years old, playing basketball, and how it seemed like being up in the air like a plane was second nature to Clark. There was nothing out of control of Clark's free fall. He had the grace of a bird, even though he was deathly afraid of heights. Pete's eyes, like Chloe's, followed Clark as he dropped down to them. Then, Clark landed, not in a heap like Pete and Chloe, but feet first, barely flexing his knees at impact. The ground was soft and wet and he splattered mud on their pants.

"So...I was right," Pete said. He looked away and took a step away from his friend of eleven years, someone as close to him as a member of his own family. So many times he wondered, and now he knew he truth. He spun around. "I was right..."

"You...guessed?" Clark's voice quavered.

"No!" Pete yelled with a ferocity that Chloe bit her lip and she slide behind Clark, scared. He was almost a foot shorter, but Pete stood right up to Clark, and poked him in the chest. "I knew! I knew that you were gifted, man! I knew for freakin' YEARS, CLARK!" His arms flailed, spit spewed from his mouth, he was so wound up. "YEARS!" He wiped his eyes, angry tears welling up. Then he stopped and turned away from Clark, and Chloe. His voice was barely audible, but Clark winced when he heard Pete's words. "You are my best friend, Clark. But you didn't tell me."

With his back turned on his friends, Pete continued, louder, for Chloe's ears. "Do you know why when we were kids we weren't allowed to play in your storm cellar, Clark? Hell...even now we're not allowed to go down there..." He knew why, but let Pete talk. "Remember that one time, me, you, Lana and some other kids...we played 'Hide and Go Seek.' God, we were five or six years old." Pete smiled at the memory. "It was Lana's turn to be "It", and everyone ran all crazily around your farm to find a good spot. We split up, and I thought I found a great spot. The storm cellar door wasn't locked that day, and I went down there. It was dark. I felt for a switch and a light bulb flicked on and I saw...it."

"Saw what?" Chloe's voice, full of curiosity. She stepped around and stood by a silent Clark, who was absorbing his friend's tale, knowing the answer. The rain and cold didn't matter now.

"A spaceship," Pete said simply. Clark reached and held Chloe's hand. Before she she could interrupt again. Pete said, "There it was, a big, gleaming silver...spaceship, just like I'd seen on television or in my comics. I walked around it, in total awe. I touched it - - " Pete reached out in the dark, imagining his fingers against the spaceship's hull. "- - and it was real. The metal was so smooth, and so cold." He shivered at the memory. "It looked like a huge bullet with fins."

He turned and looked at Clark. "Then... your dad came down there. I jumped when he called out my name. I thought I was so busted. But, you would have been proud Chloe," He added, looking at her, "I said to Mr. Kent straight out, 'this is why Clark can do the stuff he can do, huh?' straight out." Pete grinned, both at his childhood brashness and at his reporter friend; Chloe smiled back, envious that he asked a question that she never could. Looking now at Clark, Pete continued, "Even then, I couldn't have helped but notice that you were gifted, man. You did stuff that no little kid could do. I said that to your dad, too. And you know what your dad told me?" He thought back, how Jonathan Kent reached out and held his shoulder, looking intensely into his eyes. "He said the words that changed my life. Six little words, _Bro_. Six words that I took as serious as if my momma or dad said them to me. Your dad said this to me: 'let's keep Clark's secret a secret'..."

Those six simple words hung in the air between Pete and Clark.

"All these years you knew," Clark whispered, wondering why his parents didn't tell him, wondering why his best friend didn't let on with what he knew about him. Then he looked at Pete, realizing why keeping the secret was so important. "You're not freaked out...that I'm not from this planet? That I am not even a human being?"

"I can't believe you even asked that, Bro!" Pete's face was full of shock and disgust. "If I was freaked out...if I didn't think that you were something other than my best friend...do you think I'd lie for you all these years? I wanted to protect you, Clark!" His face twisted with emotion. "Not because you were from outer space, but because we are best friends!' The pit fell silent again. Then the secret-keeper spoke. "All these years, I kept that promise...to your dad, your mom...to you." He wiped his eyes again. "Years of playing dumb and making excuses for you..."

Clark was sad, watching his friend cry was difficult. He'd seen Pete weep plenty of times when they were younger; tears spilling over broken toys or from getting hurt, caused by scraped knees and basic childhood accidents, things that never happened to Clark.

"Did you think your parents were the only ones good at making up reasons why you could do what you could do?" He stepped up to Clark again, and Chloe moved behind her boyfriend once more. "So many lies. I had to cover up why you were able to push that kid through a wooden DOOR back in first grade...cover up why you never break out in a sweat in P.E. class...other personal things about you..." He shook his head thinking of just what he had say when Clark did something that seemed extra-ordinary. "I always had to explain that MAYBE you could run faster, throw farther or was that much smarter than all of us in class!" He sighed, getting a headache from the releasing of pent-up emotions, throat hurting from talking so much. "Now you're stopping all those 'meteor freaks' that pop up here in town, more work for me to cover-up." But he had more to say, the most important words to _him_.

"All I ever wanted...was for you to tell me the truth yourself, Bro. I wanted you to tell me the reason why you could do what you do...And what do you decide? You tell ...her."

"Hey!" Chloe didn't like the way Pete was pointing at her. She glared at him, and flicked some mud at him with her boot. Chloe gave him satisfied when she heard the thick wet splat against his pant leg. "Meanie!"

"Stop it, you two!" Clark said, in a deeper voice than Pete or Chloe heard him use with them. They froze; Pete stopped pointing, putting down his hand and Chloe put her boot down after shaking off the mud. He pushed them apart. He looked at Pete. "I didn't just tell Chloe. I tried to keep my heritage a secret. She found out the hard way." She nodded as Clark started to tell Pete just how Chloe found out about his true alien origin, about his super powers and amazing abilities.

Pete listened to his friend, already hearing Chloe's side of the story, that Clark fixed the flat fire when they went on a date after she got her license. Boring stuff. Then Clark said that, when the tire hit a rut, the car flipped, and that he caught it in mid-air, using his super-speed to jump out of the vehicle. "Wait a second." Pete said and Clark stopped talking. "You caught her Lincoln?" Clark and Chloe nodded. "Whoa."

"Petey," Chloe's voice was gentle. "I don't think Clark wanted me to know before you. It just happened that way. I do know that he was going to tell you on this camping trip."

"We went camping plenty of times," Pete laughed. "And you've known me since forever. You had plenty of time for you to share with me."

"Dude..It wasn't like I wanted to keep things from you...but I have no idea whats going on with me." Clark started to explain. "It's not like zits or growth spurts or anything...human. I'm AM different." Then he added, in a hushed tone as reached out to his friend's shoulder, much like his earth father did years ago, "You're more than just a secret-keeper, more than just my best friend, Pete." The young men looked at each other, Chloe now wiping her eyes at her boyfriend's words. "My mom and dad said when I came to this planet the day of the meteor shower, they didn't find me. I found them. I found you, too, Pete." As Pete and Chloe had tears streaming down their faces, Clark finished, "Pete...you're the brother that I found. You always have been...you always will be."

"You're my brother too, man," Pete said, grinning. "We're blood brothers, remember?"

"GROUP HUG!"

Clark and Pete looked at Chloe, who was smiling despite the tears. She grabbed both of them and hugged them tightly, and the boys did the same to her. All the ill feelings that Pete had against Clark, and also for Chloe were gone, and Clark appreciated Pete's friendship even more, feeling the full weight of burden that his friend had on his shoulders. They held each other, until Chloe whimpered, "I'm being smushed."

"Bro, I have to know," Pete wondered while he stepped away from Clark and Chloe. He rubbed his throat. "If you can lift a car...just how strong strong are you?"

"He's more powerful than a locomotion," Chloe swooned. The boys looked at her and she grinned, rubbing the knot on her head from the fall.

"I could lift Daisy when I was twelve," Clark explained. Daisy was the name that his father gave their red John Deere 1946 Model B tractor, a trusty hunk of steel that was a trademark on their farm; while they could probably buy a more modern machine, Jonathan Kent loved riding on Daisy, and Clark did as well. Whenever Daisy broke down, they never thought of getting rid of her, but painstakingly repaired her. "I guess I'm stronger now."

"Punk!" Pete laughed, followed by a groan. "You pretended to struggle when you lifted weights with me! How fast are you?"

"Faster than a speeding bullet," Chloe blurted out. The guys just looked at her. She frowned and leaned against Clark. "I think I have another concussion."

"Mom clocked me at about 120 miles per hour once..." If they could see him clearly, Pete and Chloe could see that Clark was blushing. "I might be faster nowadays."

"Damn, man," Pete said, voice wavering. "And all this time time I thought you were a slow poke. I know now that you got some major hops."

"Prolly able to leap a tall building in a single bound!" Chloe definitely had some type of low grade concussion.

"What else," Pete wondered, wiping the rain from his face; the weather started to be a bother again now that the confrontation was over. Clark told him about his heat vision and shook his head when he was asked if he could fly.

"He's a great kisser," Chloe gushed.

"Chloe!" Clark looked over at his girlfriend and she smiled a bit too big and toothy for him; maybe she was concussed worse than usual.

"Too much info there, Chloe," Pete groaned, rubbing his throat again. Clark explained that he was allergic to meteor rocks, and Pete guessed at that years before, making sure they weren't around Clark when they played outside or when they went on the camping trips. The rain seemed to be picking up, and the wind howled into the pit. "We should get out of here back to the camp." Clark and Chloe nodded, and she told Pete that all their gear was packed to go home. But before Clark could do anything to get them out of the hole, Pete asked another question. "So...Smallville's hero is really disguised as Clark Kent, mild mannered farm boy?"

"No, I am still just Clark Kent, your mild mannered homeboy..."

Then the earth gave away again; one of the walls crumbled. Pete and Chloe instinctively hid behind Clark's back, peeking around his arm and to the teens' shock, there was a passage that glowed an eerie yellow. Then the light started to flicker slowly.

"We could leave," Pete mumbled, holding Clark's jacket sleeve. The night already had too much action for him, none of which included cheerleader Felice Chandler. He gave his taller friend a sideways glance; having Clark finally confide in him was worth missing out getting to second base with Felice again.

"I vote we go and come back when it's not raining and cold and I'm not suffering from both a concussion and cramps and have something to take notes with," Chloe chimed in, holding Clark's other sleeve. Her ears were buzzing, another sign she suffered a concussion, but she desperately wanted to investigate just what the heck happened, wanted to run in there.

"Do you two hear a hum?" Clark rubbed his ears; it was a high-pitched tone that was both annoying to him and oddly comforting, too, like he heard it before. Pete shook his head, but Chloe was relieved that she wasn't the only one hearing that noise. "I...I have to go check what's in there, guys...It's like the noise is calling to me..." He took a step forward, and the two hiding behind him followed him into the breach, Pete slowly, Chloe happily.


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN 1866**

The teens were bathed in the flickering yellow florescent light that radiated from the cracks in the walls. The humming died down but still Clark walked deeper into the cave, looking at the cracks, watching the beams of light. "Do you see what I am seeing?" Even he was amazed; the beams were bursting forth from two symbols in the craggy earth.

Pete watched the lights that broke through the dirt and shined brightly. He spoke in a raspy voice. "Bro...I never seen a light show like this..."

"The art looks...Native American in a way," Chloe thought, rubbing her brow, looking at the painted-on designs on the walls. "I'll say this...it's nice and warm in here."

The three gasped when the pulsating light show suddenly ended, the rays no longer blinking through rock and dirt. But the symbols continued to glow, the cave now lit in a soft light. As the Pete looked at the one of the symbols and Chloe checking around for something in particular, Clark stepped towards the other one and saw it up close, a stylized 'S' in a shield-like design. It looked like something he had seen before, but couldn't place where or when. He traced his finger around it, somewhat scared, a little excited.

Then Pete spoke up. "Come on guys. We should recognize the art at least. It's Kawatchee!" He waved his arms around, pointing out the artwork. "Remember John Standing Bear came in to our school last year? Did a presentation about the Kawatchee? He said that the tribe was rumored to have used caves in the winter, but that light show?" He looked at Clark. "That was out of this world."

"Yeah." Clark looked at that symbol again. It definitely wasn't a Kawatchee design, like some of the other paintings that were on the walls around them that he and the other two could see. "I have a feeling that these symbols could help explain why I am here...on Earth."

Clark walked away from the 'S-shield' to the opposite side of the cavern and looked at the other symbol while Chloe and Clark wandered around, looking at the intriguing art and finding old Kawatchee artifacts. Clark saw that engraved in the stone was a deep octagonal groove. There was an energy emitting from it, calling to him, he felt, something that was drawing him in close. His hand reached out to touch the groove, not knowing that it would trigger the Kryptonian gateway that his real father, Jor-El, had hidden in the rock hundreds of years before. It was a mechanism that could only be used by the Son of Jor-El, and it would somehow unleash all the latent powers stored away in Clark's body, powers that would allow him to fulfill his destiny, ones that could easily allow the teen to rule Earth. But before his fingertips could feel the deep impression and boost his already formidable alien gifts to the point where he could topple every single government and army on the planet on a whim...

"I found it!" Chloe shouted and Clark pulled his hand away. "If Pete got to see your spaceship, then I could certainly take this bracelet." He watched her as she grabbed a silvery bracelet that had seemed to be calling out to _her_ from a shelf that was obviously carved out of the stone. "This is so beautiful," She said. It was like how he described the spaceship: silver, smooth and cool to the touch. The highly-polished band had strange markings on it, certainly not Kawatchee. They had to be alien in origin. Clark grinned as she wriggled her wrist into the bracelet and struggled to close the ends. She offered her hand to him and smiled coyly. "Close this for me, pwease?"

Pete watched Clark step up to Chloe, both on a rise in the cave, and he would have sworn that the light that came out of the symbols shined only on them, and they seemed to be cast in a soft yellowy glow.

"It really looks good on you," Clark said, taking Chloe's little hand and carefully pressed the metal ends together, closing the bracelet more around her wrist. "I think you can still take it off before you bathe or shower," he added, blushing, thinking of his girlfriend doing those things.

"I'll manage, babe. I like it a lot," she said twisting her wrist, looking at it, smiling at it, the band not too snug, fitting her just right, like she was meant to wear it. In one way, Clark merely clasped a bracelet on Chloe's wrist. In another way, Naman fastened the Kryptonian ceremonial marriage bracelet on Wa'kloe, and when Clark kissed Chloe, they sealed their foretold Kryptonian wedding.

"If you have two make-out in front of me, is this really the time for it?" Pete rasped, rubbing his throat and head, hurting still. The two teenagers in love reluctantly understood, stopped kissing each other and they all walked out of the cave into the rainy pit; since the breach opening was off the ground, the cave floor didn't get soaked with rain and mud seeping onto it.

"Dude, I almost forgot!" Pete said as they stood in the middle of the pit. "I saw the Shaggy Man! He was awesome!

"Me too!" Clark grinned back and they high-fived each other.

"That sucks! I didn't see nothing!" Chloe pouted. "Well I did get this nifty bracelet," She said with a grin. "Too bad you two have no proof of that beast."

"Don't be so sure," Clark said, and took out a wet stinky tufts from his jacket pocket. "When I shoved him...I grabbed some hair for you, Snugglebunny. Maybe you can get some people to run tests on them."

"You so rock, baby," Chloe grinned, already composing an article for the Ledger or the Torch or even her fledgling website about the weird stuff that was going on in Smallville, "Now, get us out of here before Pete and I get pneumonia!"

"Hold on, you two!" Clark yelled. Pete and Chloe held onto him as he jumped out of the pit, raced to the campsite, grabbed their gear and sped back to his house in less than a minute, barely slowed down by the meteor rocks.

After waking up Clark's mom and dad, each teen took turns getting into warm dry clothes. They each told the Kents how it was too windy and rainy to be outside (Pete and Chloe explained why were so filthy was because that, with all their gear and muddy footing, they had slipped a bunch of times and that caused their bruises), and after Judge Ross and Gabe were called to tell them where they were at now (and getting the okay to stay overnight), the three friends camped out in the living room. Mrs. Kent happily watched as the teens gorged themselves with delicious late-night snacks she prepared for them. "Now this is the best way to camp," Chloe said and the boys had to agree with her.

With a hot water bottle pressed against her stomach, Chloe laid comfortably on the couch as Clark and Pete were stretched out on the floor, each of them all snug in their sleeping bags, covered with extra quilts, and resting their heads on fluffy pillows until one by one they fell asleep, overcome by the experiences of the day, bonded together now by more than friendship, but by brotherhood and...marriage.

The next morning, the skies were clear, the rainstorm gone away, now attacking places East of Smallville like Keystone City and Midway. The Sun dried the ground enough by the noon that Pete and Clark grabbed a basketball and once more Clark was the Gotham Gators and Pete was the Metropolis Metros. Or maybe Pete said he was the Coast City Surfers and Clark was the Fawcett City Whizzes. In the course of the game it was forgotten. There were a couple rule changes, however; Clark couldn't use any of his powers or abilities and Pete couldn't be distracting by talking about what he did with girls on his dates with them when Clark had the ball. The game was one more in their endless series of match-ups.

Pete didn't let waking up with a mild headache and a stuffy nose stop him from driving to the basket, muscling his way for lay-up, and hustling around Clark for rebounds. His basketball game was still located mostly under the basket; any shot he made farther than six feet away from the basket was sheer luck.

Even without using his powers and abilities, Clark was a great player, scoring over Pete as usual, hitting jump shots from distance, gliding past Pete when saw an open lane to the basket."You know...I'm up by one point, man," Clark said, grabbing his friend's missed shot after clanged off the backboard. He easily dribbled the ball on the dirt, taking it past where the ball need to go before someone took a shot at the basket.

"Nope."

It wasn't Pete's voice. It belonged to Chloe, who spoke out before Pete could say anything. She sat on a hay bale, typing on her laptop. She laughed when Clark protested. "Oh, quit being a baby." She wiped her nose after she sneezed (Clark blessed her while Pete went the gesundheit route). She checked the score again, minimized one screen and maximized another, looking at the running total she had going on in Word Pad. "Yup. The score's tied, babe." She changed the score and went back to typing up her article for the Ledger, 'New Evidence Found: The Shaggy Man Exists!'

"In your face, Bro...in your face!" Pete laughed.

Chloe looked up again after taking a couple more Midol pills; she was achy but not curl up in her bed with her stuffed animals and a hot water bottle achy...yet. "I'll need some statements about The Shaggy Man from both of you two pretty soon. Try and make them interesting, especially you, Kent. Oh! Both of you remember that you have sports drinks here...replenish your fluids! I don't want you getting sick, Pete!"

"Oh...Okay." Clark looked at his girlfriend, amazed at her ability to keep score, write an article and watch out for him and Pete. Quickly, Pete shot out his hand and stole the ball from his friend. Pete took one dribble before Clark could get to him and he launched a shot from eighteen feet. All three of the teens, Pete, Clark and Chloe, watched the ball sail in the sky, spinning in a perfect rotation. Instead of ending up in the pigpen like so many times before, the ball gracefully swished through the hoop's netting.

"Ooh...good shot!" Chloe yelled. "You're winning now, Pete!"

"Someone finally learned to nail that shot," Clark teased. He grabbed the ball and took a few dribbles with it. "Game over, Bro?"

"Game over, for now," Pete smiled. He clapped hands with Clark. "Brothers forever."

_Sometimes the more things change...the more they stay the same..._


	18. Chapter 18

**Epilogue**

_Two weeks later, back in the cave..._

The pit was still there in the forest clearing, the mud now solid dirt. The entry to the cave was still intact, too, but the symbols no longer glowed as Clark and Chloe walked to the middle of the cave. He held up his green lantern, casting light onto the walls. "So what do you think, Professor...um...or is it Chief?"

"Young man, you can call me your friend. I think you two stumbled onto a wonderful find for my people, Clark," Joseph Willowbrook said, and patted the teen on his back. "I hope that this cave gives you the material to write another excellent article for the Ledger, Miss Sullivan."

Both Clark and Chloe smiled at the prominent Kawatchee tribesman and professor at Central Kansas A & M who specialized in languages and prehistoric paintings. Dressed in a natty overcoat with a black and burgundy Native American design, a tan button-up shirt under that coat, black denim jeans, comfortable hiking boots and topped off with a snappy brown felt fedora, the older man gazed up at the walls, amazed at what he saw on them. The cave paintings were magnificent and he recognized their significance to his tribe. They walked around, going into new passages in the cavern that the teens found on their supposed fact-finding missions.

"Kids, these caves...and these drawings are rather important to our people. That drawing...there," he said as he walked, and Clark raised the lantern higher for Willowbrook to see better while Chloe aimed her micro cassette audio-recorder closer to the Chief. "That one describes a Kawatchee legend...A hero that has the strength of more than a hundred men...Look at that particular mural: the hero is burning things with his eyes," Willowbrook informed them.

Clark's heart raced and he felt Chloe squeeze his hand. They continued to listen to the Kawatchee Chief, hearing his descriptions of Clark's abilities as the older man looked at the markings on the walls that were made centuries ago. "...And this set of drawings here show how our legendary hero came to our land from another planet."

"Do you know what planet?" Chloe asked, hoping that the professor couldn't tell just how eager she was to find out. Clark, of course, wanted to know, too. He saw the shape of his spaceship drawn on the wall.

"Exactly what planet, Miss Sullivan? I'll have to check our records," Professor Willowbrook grinned and she gave him a sheepish smile. "Where ever he had came from, green stones came with him." Clark shot Chloe a look and she bit her lip.

"Stones, Professor?" Clark wondered, trying to keep his tone light. "Could that mean...meteors?

"That could be, young man." He also pondered over that in his office at the university. "We have to adjust our language to their meaning, so that is very possible."

"Does this Kawatchee legend have a name?" Chloe asked. They stopped, and they looked at the craggy 'S-shield' impression.

"We Kawatchee call him Naman...and a sacred prophecy said he'd return."

Chief Willowbrook gave Clark a sideways glance; Undoubtedly, he had heard of the young man's exploits in Smallville, that the teen being at the right place at the right time, doing heroic deeds. And the meteor shower that hit Smallville did make the chief and the tribal elders talk of it being an omen of Naman's return. He looked at Clark carefully. And Chloe. "Was there ...a bracelet somewhere in here?"

"A bracelet?" Chloe hid her wrist behind her back. "Nope."

Clark said, "There was one. Show him Chloe."

"I...I hope it's okay that Clark put it on me," Chloe said with a tiny voice, showing the metallic band around her wrist. "It matches with everything I own."

"Oh my goddesses!" Joseph Willowbrook gasped, knowing the magnitude of what Chloe blithely admitted. The Chief secretly knew that no one but Naman could find the cave and knew no one could wear the bracelet except for Wakl'óe. His legs buckled.

"Is something wrong, Chief?" Chloe took hold on the older man's arm. Clark grabbed his other arm, and they straightened him up.

"No...I guess I'm overwhelmed with who you two are - - I mean, what you two found...all of this," he said. The Kawatchee looked at the kids with awe and wonder. Then he smiled at them and leaned in, out of earshot. "I know," he whispered. He repeated it for emphasis. Chloe looked at Clark shared uneasy looks. "I won't tell anyone, Naman...Wakl'óe."

Both Chloe and Clark's eyes went eyed.

A louder voice spoke up from behind them.

"You're right, Clark. This is a fascinating place," Lex Luthor said, in his trademark black clothing, walking over to them from where he stood on the other side of the cave, looking at the painting of Naman and Sageeth, hero and nemesis, locked in battle. Wielding a yellow lantern, Lex slithered up to Clark and smiled him, Chloe and Willowbrook. "Utterly fascinating."


End file.
